


Cutting Like Knives in a Fistfight

by 3988Akasha



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Violence, Kevin the Pigeon, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, West Side Story, character injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>West Side Story AU!! But, you know, with less death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cutting Like Knives in a Fistfight

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [bones_2_be](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bones_2_be)

“Can I get another pint of bitter?” Harry asked, tilting his empty pint glass towards Simon.

“Drinking alone tonight then?”

Harry shrugged. It was that time of the year. He knew Liam and Niall were back at the flat organizing different rumbles with other firms. It’s not that he was bothered, because that would be stupid, but he’d been keen on watching the last bit of Doctor Who when Niall’d shown up and he’d been kindly asked to fuck off.

“Firm business, isn’t it,” Harry answered as he took the second pint from Simon.

“You did the right thing, Harry,” Simon said, his eyes serious. “You boys are all too young for this business.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He appreciated the support, but they weren’t too young, none of them had been that young for a while now. He’d seen his first firm scrap when he was nine, him and Liam getting pulled along by Niall’s older brother, Greg; he’d been in his first when he was twelve and he’d worn his black eye like a badge of honor and sworn he’d not do so poorly again.

“Hiya, mate. Pint of lager, please.”

Harry looked at the young man who’d slid onto the stool next to him, his mouth going dry as he took in the caramel colored hair that looked like it’d been professionally wind-tossed, the quirk of the quick smile he flashed Simon, the sparkle of mischief in eyes, a bit glossy with drink.

“Hello there, curly,” the boy said, giving Harry a once over.

“’Lo,” Harry mumbled back, hiding his face in his pint.

He set his glass down and ambled off the stool, needing to take a piss.

“What you doing?”

Harry jumped a bit, not accustomed to random blokes leaning over his shoulder when he was in the toilet.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“Taking a piss.”

A half-amused smile tugged the corners of Harry’s lips because the guy was completely mental. Not even Niall got this mad when he was well and truly pissed. There was something playful about it, under all the hostility, which Harry could still feel emanating from the other guy. He’d have to go elsewhere if he was keen on a fight. By the time he’d finished up, the other guy was gone and Harry shook his head, knowing he’d have an amusing story to tell the lads tonight.

“You’re in my seat,” Harry blurted as he walked back out to the bar, the stranger from the loo sitting in his stool, drinking _his_ beer.

“Mostly empty bar, mate. No need to get your knickers in a twist then.”

Harry gestured to Simon, who poured him another pint and took the stool next to him.

“Right,” he continued as though they’d not just had an awkward encounter in the loo. “Pick a card.”

Harry set his pint glass down and slowly blinked at the boy, wondering why he’d brought a deck of card with him if he was drinking alone, too. His smile was still sort of manic, like he was fighting to keep it serious, but just couldn’t quite manage.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry began with a shake of his head, his curls flying about. “’m not in the mood for games just now.”

“Didn’t ask if you were in the mood, now did I?”  

Harry’s eyebrows went up, shocked by the way the bloke seemed to be pushing for a fight. He glanced around the pub, wondering if he’d accidentally managed to wander into the wrong place. Maybe he’d just imagined it was Simon behind the bar. He didn’t see Zayn or any of the other blokes from Bradford, but there was something about this guy that had Harry a bit on edge, had his hand clenching into a fist. He wasn’t looking for a row, didn’t fancy having someone start one with him either.

“Pick a card.”

It wasn’t worth it, Harry decided as he rolled his eyes and took a card.

“Go on then, show it to the good man doing a lovely job of keeping us well sloshed.”

Harry exchanged a glance with Simon as he showed him the card, a six of clubs. It seemed as though the guy had started his night out somewhere else, a while ago if the way he sort of swayed on the stool was any indicator.

“What’s your name?”

“Harry.” There was no point in not answering, the annoying git would just keep asking.

“Harold, nice to meet you. I’m Louis.”

Harry shook the lad’s hand, still feeling like it was one of those ‘how is this your life’ moments.

“Give us the card back then, Harold.”

“My name’s – ”

“The card, Harold, give us the card.”

“Fine,” Harry held the card out, giving up on the idiot ever getting his name right.

He watched as Louis took his sweet time putting the card back in the middle of the deck. He slammed the deck down on the bar with a nod before turning back to Harry and shooting the whole deck at his face. At first, Harry was too stunned to react because seriously? Who the fuck did shit like that? Louis, of course, thought it was brilliant fun based on how he was doubled over on his stool, laughing so hard tears were leaking from between his eyes.

After a beat, Harry felt his own face break out in a smile, could feel it tugging the edges of his mouth. It felt good to smile, really smile. A laugh bubbled in his throat and soon he was giggling like a stupid git, right along with Louis. Although, Harry noted when he stopped laughing to suck in a breath, Louis had stopped laughing. His eyes had changed, something softened around the edges and he tilted his head, as though looking for something in Harry’s face.

“Bit of alright, you are,” Louis said as he absently stacked the cards on the bar back into order.

“You’re a bit of a git, you know,” Harry replied.

“Right you are, Harold.”

“Simon,” a voice Harry knew all too well said as he walked up to the bar. “I’ll have a pint of stout.”

“Harry,” Zayn greeted as he stood behind Louis.

“Oh, Zayn, you know Harold here, good. He and I were just getting acquainted. He thinks I’m brilliant.”

“Zayn,” Harry greeted as he watched the familiar way Zayn threw his arm over Louis’ shoulder. Well, shit. “You two lads know each other then.”

Zayn nodded. Harry held his gaze because he could, because this was neutral territory, because it was the second time tonight he’d been told to fuck off when he was just beginning to enjoy himself. He was finished with his beer, and Louis now had someone who’d see he got himself home without wandering off a cliff or something equally stupid. Harry pulled out a tenner and put it on the counter before smiling his thousand-watt smile at Zayn, feeling cheeky.

“See you around, lads.”

“Top of the evening, Harold,” Louis sing-songed.

Zayn just nodded, and Harry understood. He’d never really said much, not that Harry’d ever heard, and really, what did they have to say to each other? He scuffed his feet as he walked back to Liam’s flat, not feeling like going back to his sister’s place. Sometimes he wondered why he’d bothered, but it’d seemed like the thing to do at the time. Liam had business to deal with, and Harry wasn’t a part of that anymore, so he’d moved out of town, moved in with Gemma who’d moved to Armley once she’d finished up her A-Levels. Like the distance would help, like the distance would solidify his neutrality – like he could be Switzerland. It was a load of bollox because he knew, everyone knew, if Liam ever needed him – well, neutrality be damned.

“Alright, Harry?” Liam greeted as he walked through the door.

“Don’t feel like going back to mine, you mind?”

“Course not.”

Harry could feel Liam’s gaze, could feel the questions. It’s not like he ever got away with just not talking about it.

“Zayn’s got himself a new guy,” Harry started.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry added quickly, not needing Liam to get all wound up. “Unearthly pretty bloke.”

“You met his cousin then, Louis.”

“Oh good, he’s single then.”

Liam snorted.

“Why does he have to be so damn pretty?”

“It’s the both of them, isn’t it? Must run in the family. Fuckers.”

“What was that?” Harry teased, knowing full well how Liam felt about Zayn.

“Nothing.”

“Uh huh.”

“Twat.”

Harry laughed. “Well, Louis came into the pub – ”

“Louis went into Whitelock’s?”

“Jesus, no, Li. I didn’t go to Whitelock’s. I’m not an idiot. I was at Reliance. Went to see Simon.”

Harry stood up and paced a bit in front of the couch before going into the kitchen for another beer. It was that sort of night. He brought one for Liam, just in case. If not, he’d drink it, too.

“Damnit,” Harry muttered into his beer.

“I’m not going to tell you no. He seems like a decent guy.”

“He’s such a tosser.”

“You must really fancy him.”

Harry glared at Liam, hoping he wasn’t blushing. Because honestly, he’d spent most of the evening actively ignoring the git. He just wouldn’t take a hint, but Harry couldn’t help but be glad he hadn’t. Until Zayn’d shown up, he’d been enjoying himself. He hadn’t had to think about football, about the firm, about worrying about Liam. It’s not that he didn’t trust Niall to have his back, but it wasn’t the same. Louis had been a separation from all that. Now he wasn’t. Now he was Zayn’s fucking cousin.

“You know what it’s like, Harry,” Liam said, his tone as understanding as it could be. “It won’t be easy.”

“’It’,” Harry said with air quotes. “Isn’t anything. By now, Zayn’ll have warned him off me and I’ll likely not run into him again. Not like that.”

“I’m sorry, mate.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, me too.”

Liam ruffled Harry’s hair before moving towards the hall and his room. “Don’t drink yourself to sleep, Harry.”

“Yes, mum.” Harry added a rude gesture just to make Liam tut.

 

“Hey, Li, I’ve got that take-away curry you like,” Harry called as he shut the door with his foot. It was one of the nice things about Liam’s parents; they were abroad more than not. Growing up it’d been nice, even if it’d been hard on Liam, forcing him to be more adult than he should, always having other parents looking in on him. It’s part of why his parents had been fine with Harry spending more time round Liam’s than his own home. Course, never having your parents around also made it easier to be involved in the firm because no one was around to ask questions, to see the bruises.

He set the food down on the counter, walking further in to the flat.

“Liam?”

Inside the bathroom, Liam was adjusting the bandage on his arm, his left eye still puffy and Harry could see the split in his lip, knowing that those always took the longest to heal because Liam kept licking at them. With a sigh, Harry batted Liam’s hands away, ignoring the glare and set to work unwrapping the meters of gauze Liam thought he’d need.

“You’ve always been rubbish at this,” Harry muttered as he threw the used gauze in the bin.

The wound on Liam’s arm was a nasty looking gash that kept trickling blood. Harry reached down and tugged the bottom of Liam’s shirt, hauling it over his head, his firm pendant swinging back and forth against his skin. Harry stared at it, biting his lip, forcing himself to keep his mouth shut. It was something he’d helped Liam make, working to make the mold, finding the bits of metal, making sure it looked perfect. Liam had offered to help make one for him, too, but Harry had other ideas. Absently, he rubbed his right arm, thumb pressing against the blackened in heart, the cover-up of his firm tattoo. Harry shook his head, focusing back on Liam, pushing thoughts of the past from his mind. There were more bruises on his torso, dark, angry purpling marks right below his ribcage, red welts along his shoulders. Harry’s eyes flickered back up to Liam’s, but neither said anything. Harry soaked a cotton and dabbed along the cut on Liam’s arm, watching it stain pink. He grit his teeth, not needing to start a fight with his best mate over something that they both knew would happen.

“We didn’t know they’d have knives,” Liam said.

“They’re not all going to be gentleman scrappers now are they,” Harry snapped, tying the gauze tight enough to make Liam wince.

“I should have been there,” Harry continued, loosening the gauze a bit.

“No, Harry. The lads and I had it sorted.”

“You call this having it sorted?”

“I’m fine, Harry. Nothing that won’t heal up quick enough. You’re out; firm’s not your concern anymore.”

“Fuck the firm, Liam. This hasn’t go anything to do with the firm. I’ve seen you roughed up before, alright? I know, but it’s different now is all and I don’t like it. I don’t like not having your back.”

Harry dabbed some Germolene on his finger and rubbed it gently into the cut just above Liam’s eyebrow before covering it with a plaster.

“Have you got some frozen peas for that eye?”

Liam nodded.

“Good, and stop licking at your lip will you? Honestly,” Harry fussed. He checked the rest of the bruises and with most of them, there was fuck all he could do about them.

“Right, well, you’ll live.”

Harry turned to leave, needing to get out, away.

“Harry – ” Liam began.

Slowly, Harry turned back around.

“Thanks.”

Harry took a deep breath and gently grasped Liam’s head between his hands. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead, his eyes closing as he savored the fact that his best mate was still alive.

“’Course, mate. Go eat your curry before it goes cold, yeah?”

Liam nodded again and brushed past Harry on his way to the living room. Harry stayed behind a moment, splashed some water on his face and stared at his reflection. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d helped patch Liam up after a scrap. This was different though, and no matter how he talked around it in his mind, he still felt like the biggest arse in the world.

“I’ll come round to check on you tomorrow.”

“Harry – ”

“Shut it, Li, alright? Just leave it.”

Contrite, Liam nodded. Harry wanted to apologize, wanted to nudge Liam with his shoulder and make some stupid joke about the bad curry he favored, but he didn’t. He shook his head and walked out the door. The noise was loud outside Whitelock’s, as it always was after a match, after the firm had a scuffle. Those mended enough for a pint, which was usually all of them because you wore your wounds with pride because it meant you didn’t fuck off during the worst of it, they always went to Whitelock’s. It meant you were a man. He didn’t linger, didn’t want anyone to see him, to invite him in for a celebratory pint. So he kept walking, not towards home either because Gemma would want to talk about it and the people of the area knowing all about the Leeds United Service Crew, and as he’d been told by one old bat on his street, they’d rather not see his kind round here anymore.

He was outside The Reliance before he realized it, and ducked inside just as it began to pour. Luckily, it was quiet; most of the lads were down at Whitelock’s. He slid into a stool cradled his head with his hands. Maybe it’d been stupid of him to think he could get out, that it would matter or something. He didn’t mind the fights, enjoyed them most of the time, but he’d done it for Liam. Growing up together, going to matches, watching the older lads scrap about, it’s just what you did. Then it wasn’t fun anymore. Then people were getting stabbed, people were dying and every time he closed his eyes after a match, all he could see was Liam lying somewhere, some dirty alley with a knife in his gut, his blood pooling in a neat, red circle underneath his unmoving body.

“On then house, then,” Simon said as he slid a pint towards Harry.

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled as he pulled the pint to his lips.

“Harold!”

Harry’s head fell forward with a thud against the bar; he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with Louis and his insanity. Louis ruffled his hair, which everyone did, but tonight it bothered him, and slid into the stool next to him.

“I see he’s let you out on your own, no collar tonight then?”

Louis blinked at him rapidly, his mouth opened and closed quickly.

Harry felt like a git. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Louis just kept blinking at him and Harry was just about to apologize again when Louis leaned in close, draping his arm loosely around Harry’s shoulder.

“You alright there, curly?”

Harry looked at him, noted the genuine concern there and let out a deep sigh. He shook his hair, not that it kept it from falling back in front of his face straight away.

“There was a match and my best mate, he got roughed up a bit,” Harry said, not really sure why he was telling Louis any of this.

“Zayn mentioned, said it was a bit rough.”

“How does – it wasn’t with – ”

“Nah, Zayn just knows these things,” Louis said with a nod, as though everyone ought to know that Zayn just knew things.

“Right, well, sure. I, uh, it bothers me, seeing him all messed up like that. I wasn’t there, and I’m out, yeah? But, then he gets roughed up and I’m just not sure,” Harry babbled.

“It’s not like he wouldn’t’ve been roughed up if you’d been there, right? And from how Zayn natters on bout him, Liam’s alright in a fight, yeah?”

Harry smiled in spite of himself. There was just something about the way Louis said things – things he knew, but it was different when Louis said it. Later he’d sort out how Louis seemed to know all about Liam, and how Zayn knew and why he cared. For now, he was just going to drink his beer.

“Ah, there we are, curly,” Louis said with a large grin. “Fancy a game of darts?”

Harry’s face scrunched up as he looked around. “Mate, there’s no darts here. Simon doesn’t think they’re classy enough for his establishment.”

“I heard that,” Simon growled, a fond smile on his face.

“What’s that then,” Louis said, pointing to a stuffed pigeon above the bar.

“A while back Council sent round a note saying that putting fake pigeons up would keep the real ones away. Figured I’d give it a go, but it didn’t take.”

Harry blinked at Simon, waiting for it to be a joke, but he was serious. Council did come up with some strange things, must’ve been Health and Safety.

“Can I borrow him?” Louis asked.

There was something in his eyes, the way they were just so bright that made Harry bite back a laugh because he knew he wouldn’t be able to explain why he was laughing and he figured it was still a bit too early in the night to just sputter out laughter and then point and say ‘Louis’.

“I haven’t got any darts,” Simon told Louis as he reached up to get the pigeon.

“Don’t need any,” Louis replied with a shrug as he took the pigeon from Simon, stroking it as though it were a real bird.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Meeting our new friend, Harold, don’t be rude.” Louis pulled the pigeon closer to his face, protectively shielding it from the room. “It’s okay, Kevin. He’ll come round.”

“You’ve named a stuffed bird.”

“Yes, I have. Now pay attention, cause I’m only going to explain this once. Right, so, Kevin here, lovely of you to be here by the way, has volunteered to sacrifice himself for the greater good, sweet soul that he is. I’m going to place him here – ” Louis scrambled over to one of the high tops and placed Kevin in the center of it. “And you’re going to pitch things at him till he falls over.”

“That’s it?”

“Course not.”

Louis was in front of him again, so close his breath was tickling the shell of Harry’s ear. Did the guy ever stop moving?

“Left or right handed?”

“Right.”

“Good then, you’ll pitch things with your left hand whilst standing on your right foot and closing your left eye.”

Harry couldn’t stop grinning, silently laughing as Louis proceeded to demonstrate exactly how one was meant to do all of that. The incredible part was that he did it without falling on his arse.

“Harold, stop laughing, it’s making your hair move and that’s against the rules. This is a serious matter.”

Naturally, it only made Harry laugh harder.

“Useless, absolutely useless you are.”

Harry forced himself to stop laughing, but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Louis reached into his pocket and pulled out a table tennis ball and Harry wondered why Louis had something like that in his pocket because he truly could not handle the idea that Louis had planned this seemingly random game of hit the pigeon in advance.

“Take this, I’ll want that back mind you, and try to hit Kevin with it,” Louis said as he placed the ball in Harry’s hand.

Harry pulled his arm back and went to release the ball when Louis let out a scream that made him jump and release the ball anyway, hitting Louis right on the nose. Louis made a stern face that might have been intimidating under different circumstances, but Harry couldn’t have stopped his laughter if his life depended on it. So, he went with it, even pointed at Louis, then the ball, paused,  pointed back up at Louis, and laughed some more.

“That’s not how the game is played you know. You’re meant to hit the pigeon.”

Louis tutted at him a bit more before picking up the ball and putting it back in Harry’s hand. Before Harry could do anything though, Louis reached round and held him about the middle, his left hand covering Harry’s left eye.

“Get your leg up, Harold. Put the ball in your left hand, there’s a good lad. Now, we’re going to hit _Kevin_ with the ball.”

Harry pulled his hand back, attempted aiming, and watched the ball land nowhere near Kevin. He started laughing even as he heard Louis making displeased sounds behind him. Even Simon was laughing, or at least smiling, which was good because Harry really didn’t want to stop. It was stupid and ridiculous and exactly what he needed. Once Louis released him, Harry put his foot back down and took another drink of his beer.

“It’s okay, Kevin,” Louis began as he approached the pigeon. “I’ll work with him on it, we’ll get it sorted. You did very well tonight.”

Harry settled himself back at the bar, ordered a lager for Louis and another bitter for himself. Louis handed the stuffed pigeon back to Simon and gave him precise directions on where it was to be put, ‘no, a bit to the left’ and when he was satisfied nodded and took a long swallow of his beer. Harry tried not to watch the way his throat worked as the beer went down, tried not to imagine how it would feel to lick along the tendon.

“Harry,” Louis said and it was shocking because Louis never used his actual name. “I wonder how much your best mate, Liam, would beat me if I asked for your number? See, I think it’s best I not just laze about the pub all the time. Gives the wrong impression, yeah? Also, it’s a bit stalkerish.”

His heart was hammering because he was mostly sure the gorgeous boy had just asked for his number, so that they could maybe see each other on purpose. He was nodding and asking Simon for a pen before the rest of what Louis said hit him. Liam wasn’t going to beat him because that would be stupid, but that wasn’t the worrisome part. He was Zayn’s cousin. Zayn who ran Bradford’s firm…and Harry, Harry was the ex-second for Liam and it was complicated. Harry looked at Louis, watched the way the first signs of doubt trickled into his expression and that decided it. He wanted Louis to have his number.

“Well, I can’t very well let you go about stalking me,” Harry answered with a smile.

Harry handed his mobile over to Louis who was just smiling like it was Christmas morning and Harry knew his smile looked just a stupid, but he didn’t care because Louis was amazing and wanted his number and made up stupid games with stuffed pigeons just to make him feel better. Louis handed Harry his mobile and he felt his heart melt a bit more as he quickly punched in his number, having to do it over because he was so excited he kept mistyping it, like he was twelve again.

 

“You did move, didn’t you?” Niall asked.

Harry blinked up at him from his place on the couch. “Sod off.”

Niall just laughed, lifted Harry’s legs, letting them drop back down so they were sort of draped across his legs. Harry shook his head and burrowed back into the pillow. It was far too early to be awake. Niall turned on the telly, catching the results from the other matches. It was almost like old times, almost like it had been before, when they were all basically living in the flat, watching football, having a good scuffle.

“Morning, lads,” Liam greeted as he walked into the kitchen.

“Put the kettle on,” Harry called.

A bit later, Harry thought he’d fallen back asleep, Liam came in with a tray of tea and a few biscuits. Harry smiled a bit because some things never change and even when his houseguests were being lazy sods, Liam was going to be the perfect host, and even after a lifetime together would still ask how many sugars, and would you like some cream.

“I’m well and truly fucked.”

“Right then, Harry, how are you doing this fine morning,” Liam asked.

“Zayn didn’t tell him off me. He came round the pub again and I gave him my mobile number…and I’ve got his.”

“Least he’ll stop stalking the place,” Niall added. “Simon told me he’d been lurking about the place since the last time you’d been in.”

“Not just Louis,” Liam added. “Seems our boy Harry here’s been round the pub a bit more, too.”

“I hate you both.”

“I think it’s kinda cute, you know?” Niall added.

“This is serious,” Harry insisted as he took a long swallow of his tea.

“What’s happened?”

“He texted me! Why would he do that?”

“Uh, didn’t you give him your number?” Niall asked.

“Course I did, so what’s he texting me for?”

Harry threw an arm over his eyes with a sigh.

“Let’s see it then,” Niall said as he reached for Harry’s mobile.

“What? No – ” Harry struggled to keep it away from Niall, but then Liam started in too.

“’Harold, Kevin wants me to tell you that you’re rubbish, but he knows you’ll get better.’”

Harry watched Niall and Liam exchange a confused look.

“’Harold, good news. It’s Kevin’s birthday, he’s just told me. Wants a proper night out, fancy joining me?’”

“Who’s Kevin?” Liam asked.

“The bloody pigeon,” Harry answered, putting his arm back across his face.

“He’s having a party for a pigeon?” Liam asked, confusion coloring his voice.

“If there are streamers I’m going to murder him,” Harry groaned.

“So you’re going then?” Niall asked, not overly concerned about the pigeon.

“Course I’m going – no, I’m not – I don’t know.”

“But Harry,” Liam began, “What will Kevin think if you don’t go?”

Both Liam and Niall began laughing, Niall fell off the couch and continued laughing from where he landed on the floor. Harry took the pillow out from under his head and beat Liam with it, not that he thought it would make him stop, but it made him feel better.  

“You know, Harry, we don’t even know if we’ll be paired up, you know. It doesn’t happen every year. Zayn’s not going to mess about if there’s not a match and I’ve got no reason to either.”

Harry moved his arm down and looked at Liam with one eye. He wasn’t wrong, but that was only an _if_ , it was just a possibility. Plus, it wasn’t exactly enough. They couldn’t always just hide out in Simon’s pub every time they wanted to be together. Eventually, they’d have to be outside, eventually they’d be seen and not all the members of the firms were quite so understanding as Liam, and apparently, Zayn.

“Exactly,” Niall added. “Have you texted him back then?”

“Course not,” Harry replied. “Been here with you sorry sods.”

Liam and Niall exchanged a glance.

“We’ll just leave you to it then, shall we?” Liam said as he stood from the couch.

“Yeah, Liam can make me a toad in the hole for breakfast,” Niall told Liam as he stood from where he’d been sprawled on the carpet.

Harry grumbled as he caught his mobile, Niall tossing it back to him as he walked towards the kitchen. He held it between his hands, idly twisting it about, not sure how he was going to respond. It would be easy enough to just reply with a ‘yes’, but he wanted to say something clever, wanted to type back something that would make Louis smile that manic little grin of his.

His fingers fumbled over the keys as he typed his response, hoping it was a clever as the thought. Waiting for a response was torture because it felt like ages before his mobile chimed, just enough time for him to rethink his response about a dozen times, convinced it just sounded stupid.

“’Harold, I’m ever so glad you and Kevin have decided I’m fit enough company to come along tonight.’” Harry read aloud, knowing he’d have to tell the lads later.

“You think he’s fit then?” Liam asked as he poked his head around the separating wall.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, he’s well fit.”

“Well go on then, tell him he can come round Gemma’s to pick you up – it’s his party isn’t it?”

Harry smiled, feeling Liam’s suggestion would be just cheeky enough to make Louis smile a bit. He quickly texted Louis his address in Armley.

“He’s gonna come round mine about 6,” Harry called.

“That’s good then isn’t it?” Liam asked.

“It’s brilliant. I’ve got to get a gift you know.”

“What, for Louis? Isn’t that a bit much?” Niall asked.

“Course not for Louis, for Kevin. It’s his birthday isn’t it?”

Liam started laughing and Harry found himself smiling a bit too, because it was mental, the lot of it, but he didn’t rightly care.

“It’s good you two found each other,” Liam said between giggles. “You’re both nutters.”

“What do you buy a stuffed pigeon?”

“You’re joking, right?” Niall asked.

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t, but the lads didn’t need to know that. He’d figure it out; he had all day. On his way out, he snagged the toad in a hole Liam had just made Niall and ruffled his hair as he protested loudly.

“See you lads later,” he said around a mouthful of toast.

 

Hours later, Harry looked at himself in the mirror, still not sure if he was happy with how his hair looked, not that there was much he could do to control the mass of curls on the top of his head. Fortunately, Gemma was working tonight, not that she wasn’t brilliant, but he didn’t need another voice in his head. He’d decided on simple, after some not so gentle coaching from Liam. The final product was passable, the white t-shirt had a wide enough neck that it showed hints of his collarbones, and the tightest black jeans he owned. Liam always teased him about them, too, said they were going to cut off circulation. He went into the living room, Kevin’s gift sitting in the center of the coffee table, a small box with a wide blue bow, that Harry thought matched Louis’ eyes. Harry’s heart started hammering in his chest when he heard the knock on the door. He knew he was blushing, but it’s not like he could just keep Louis standing outside the flat all night.

“Hiya,” Harry said as he pulled the door open, not liking the breathy way his voice hitched at the end. Louis looked amazing though, eyes outlined in kohl, hair mussed in the most adorable I-didn’t-spend-hours-on-this-but-I-did-look and Harry wanted to sink his fingers into it, so he clenched his hand into a fist to make sure he didn’t.

“Harold, you look smashing tonight,” Louis greeted, his normal cheeky grin muted a bit by the way his eyes raked over Harry.

“I’ve wrapped a gift for Kevin, seeing as it’s his birthday and all,” Harry blurted. “It’s just inside on the table.”

Louis’ grin was everything to Harry and he opened the door a bit more so Louis could come inside. He shoved his hands in his pockets, not sure what else to do with them and watched Louis prowl around his flat. There was an intensity in his gaze as he looked around the room and Harry trailed after him as he went wandering about the rest of the flat, poking his head in the kitchen, looking at the disaster his bathroom was, then finally strolled into his bedroom as though he’d done it a million times before, as though he had every right in the world to do so. For the life of him, Harry couldn’t think of a reason for it to be any different because he liked the way Louis walked around as though he owned the place because it was as though Louis felt as though he owned a piece of Harry, too and that was a nice thought.

“Don’t you live with your parents?” Louis asked as he walked back into the living room, sprawling across the armchair, taking up more space than was strictly necessary.

“Not really, no. I moved in with my sister, Gemma. It’s easier, not being in town when Liam’s doing stuff for the firm. Makes my mum feel better too, knowing I’m not a part of it anymore.”

Louis looked at him silently, his eyes intense as he held Harry’s gaze.

“What’s in the box then?”

“That’s for Kevin.”

“Right, well, see here’s the thing. Kevin, bless him, is feeling a bit ill this evening, but wanted us to celebrate anyway. Seeing as how I planned everything out, bloke figured we might as well enjoy it.”

“You still can’t open his present, Lou,” Harry said, smile tugging his lips.

“Cheeky.”

Harry grinned at him and pushed the box a bit further away from Louis.

“Right well, since you’re being an utter prat, we should get on with the evening then,” Louis said, moving Harry towards the door.

Harry smiled as Louis’ hand remained on the small of his back, guiding him out to the waiting taxi. He slid into the back seat and was nervous again, the interior suddenly too small, Louis’ presence too big. His palms were sweating and no amount of rubbing them against the legs of his jeans was doing him a bit of good. Louis must have noticed his nervous movements because he felt Louis’ hand nudge his and then Louis was intertwining their fingers and Harry was happy, but a bit embarrassed because he knew they were still sweaty and that was a bit gross, but Louis just squeezed his hand, so maybe he didn’t mind so much.

They stopped outside the Hyde Park Picture House. Harry shot a glance at Louis, but he put a finger to his lips and shook his head. Harry pouted and Louis grinned. Louis paid they driver and they ambled out of the cab, Harry realizing, belatedly as he nearly face planted on his way out, that there was no graceful way to get out of the backseat of a taxi. Louis steadied him though, a solid hold on his upper arm and a concerned glance. Harry smiled, feeling as though it was all he’d do all night and mumbled a thanks to cover his embarrassment.

Louis moved his hand down Harry’s arm, settling it in the small of his back and Harry allowed himself to lean a bit closer to Louis, liking possessive way Louis’ hand clenched his shirt. He produced two tickets to the event, the horror film all-nighter Harry’d wanted to attend, but none of his mates had been interested.

Harry turned is head, lips right against Louis’ ear. “How you know then?”

“Know what, Harold?” Louis asked, voice pitched low, lips impossibly close.

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly quite dry. “Bout the film festival?”

Louis grin took over his face as he winked at Harry. “I know everything, mate.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face no doubt undermined its effectiveness.

Louis laughed as he led them inside, his hand still curled around Harry’s hip. Inside was fairly crowded, loads of younger people, and some intense older people queuing up for concessions to get them through the marathon.

“Figured we’d get seats first, yeah?” Louis called over the crowd noise.

“That’s fine,” Harry answered, not really caring one way or another. Louis arm was around him, hand hot on his hip, their sides brushing each time they moved. All he could hope was that Louis planned on holding him through the films, too. Or Harry’d hold him, anything that kept them touching.

They found seats near the back, neither much caring for sitting all the way down the front of the cinema. Louis lifted the armrest between their chairs before settling into them. He winked at Harry, who just knew he was blushing like a teenager.

“I’ll pop out for some snacks then, yeah?” Louis suggested. “Anything you want?”

“Surprise me,” Harry said. “You know everything after all.”

“Cheeky, Harold. Quite cheeky.”

Harry settled down into his chair while Louis scampered off to get whatever it was he decided to get. Part of Harry was a bit nervous about what Louis would come back with because there was always something about Louis, something in his eyes that meant you never quite knew what he was going to do. It was one of the things Harry liked most about him, the spontaneity of his existence, the way he truly did just seem to know everything about Harry, at least the important stuff. He expected Liam to know things about him because they’d been best mates since they’d both been in nappies, Niall joining their little duo soon after. They’d gone through primary school together, gotten into trouble, broken curfew, done all the sorts of things young lads are meant to do. Louis, Louis was something completely different though. He was just energy and barely contained rage; Harry could still see it simmering in his eyes. It was never directed at him, but it was there in the lines of his shoulders, the way he held his arms. A livewire, that’s what he was, one that was just waiting for something to set it off, to let it free.

“In honor of Kevin’s birthday,” Louis said as he slid into his seat, arms full of snack food, “I’ve brought cake. And sweet popcorn, and you love chocolate, because I know everything, see, and I’ve brought you some Twix.”

“Where’d you find cake then?”

“There’s a Tesco’s just down the road a ways, isn’t there, so went in and bought myself one. Kevin would have wanted us to do this, Harold.”

“Course he would,” Harry replied with a smile of his own. “How’d you get it in then?”

“I’m a charming bastard, I’ll have you know.”

Harry snorted a laugh, having no doubts about Louis’ charms and bit down hard on the bubble of jealously that flared in him when he thought about Louis using that charm on someone other than himself. Louis might not know it yet, but Harry made no apologies for being a selfish bloke.

“Oi!” Louis complained as he playfully punched Harry’s arm. “I’m a right charming lad.”

“I thought the cake was about Kevin. It’s his birthday, innit?”

“Course, but we’re the ones celebrating. Now shut up and eat your cake.”

Harry opened his mouth, but couldn’t say anything because Louis used the opportunity to shove a piece of cake into his mouth, Harry’s lips closing over his fingers. Harry licked the cake from between Louis’ fingers, not missing the little hitch to Louis’ breath. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the flavor of the cake; it was good and Harry was rather fussy about it since he’d started working in the bakery, the lads started taking the piss about him being covered in flour. Naturally, they shut it rather abruptly when he plied them with cakes.

“Those little noises you’re making,” Louis voice rasped against Harry’s ear, “they’re obscene, curly.”

His voice curled around Harry like velvet, making him squirm a bit in his chair. Their eyes locked and Harry could feel the heat crackle between them. It was a tense moment, full of something deeper than either of them were quite ready to deal with because no matter how much Harry felt as though he’d known Louis forever, they’d only known each other a few days.

“Right,” Louis said as he shook himself out of the spell.

“Lou – what – ”

Louis climbed up onto his chair and faced the now mostly filled room. “Ladies and gentleman.”

The room went rather quiet, everyone turning back to look at him. Louis looked down and gave Harry a cheeky wink. Harry was torn between wanting to sink back into the chair and hide his face and laugh. He’d probably settle on both.

“Tonight’s a special night for myself and Harry here. Our good friend, Kevin, see, it’s his birthday, right, but he’s a bit ill and couldn’t come out with us. I told him I’d do something properly embarrassing, and I’m sure this counts well enough for that. If you all would be so kind, and I’m sure you are, lovely audience and all, as to join me in singing Happy Birthday, it’d be brilliant.”

Louis leaned down towards Harry. “Get out your mobile, will you? Record it so we can take it back and show Kevin.”

Harry did laugh, laughed so hard he could hardly keep a grip on his mobile as he turned on the camera, pointing it at Louis who continued to make a spectacle of himself.

“Right then, on the count of three then. One – two – three – ” He paused and made a gesture for the audience to join him. Brilliantly, Harry thought, they did. The whole crowd was singing Happy Birthday – to Kevin, the bloody stuffed pigeon. Harry’d tried singing along, but he couldn’t stop laughing, laughed so hard he got a stitch in his side, but he kept laughing because Louis was ridiculous and gorgeous and made Harry want to stand up on the seats and sing along too. The video was probably rubbish, his hand shaking too much from the laughter, but whatever, right?

“You’re completely mental, you know?” Harry said as Louis slid back into his seat, smile too big for his face.

“Go on then, you love it,” Louis replied with a wink. Harry was pretty well convinced those winks and cheeky grins had a direct line to his cock which gave an appreciative twitch from the confines of his trousers.

“You do know he’s a bloody stuffed bird, right mate?”

Louis threw his hands over his chest dramatically. “Kevin is more than a stuffed bird, curly. I’m appalled at your behavior, and on his birthday!”

Harry slapped Louis’ chest lightly. “Sod off.”

Louis trapped his hand against his chest. Harry smiled as he allowed his thumb to move back and forth against Louis’ chest. It was an awkward angle, but Harry liked the warmth of Louis body so he didn’t reckon he’d move his hand. He did move his body a bit closer, tucked himself up against Louis, felt Louis put his free arm around Harry’s shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

The theater lights went down and a smile tugged Harry’s lips. First up was a film with zombies, some low budget flick that had people shouting at the screen. It was a good way to get the audience all into the night, gearing up for eight hours of horror films. He settled in against Louis, just enjoying being near him, feeling his chest rise and fall as he breathed. He liked it because he didn’t have to think, didn’t have to do anything other than just be there, enjoy Louis’ company, his mad plans and all.

 “You scared yet?” Louis whispered during the second or third film, they’d all started to run together for Harry.

Harry turned his face towards Louis, saw the little smirk on his face.

“No, but if you are, you can hold my hand,” Harry answered.

“What a gentleman you are, Harry.”

His breath caught in his throat because Louis so rarely used his real name, and it was a whisper of air against his face. They were close, so close that Harry could see the blue of Louis’ eyes, even in the darkened theater. It wouldn’t take much, just a slight adjustment and his lips would be on Louis.

The audience shrieked, causing Harry to jerk back to Louis endless amusement.

“Shut it, you,” Harry hissed through his laughter.

“Mate, you should’ve seen your face.”

Harry tossed a handful of popcorn in Louis’ face, making him squeak indignantly, his smile even bigger. Before he could throw a second batch, Louis grabbed his wrist, pulling him in closer. Louis looked like he was going to say something, but his mouth snapped shut and his eyes darkened, all of his energy focused on Harry in a way that made him squirm. His thumb was moving restlessly against Harry’s wrist and he could feel his breath coming out in little pants. His eyes kept flicking down to Louis’ lips, watching the way Louis’ teeth would worry his bottom lip.

“Fuck it,” Harry mumbled as he pressed his lips to Louis’, his tongue swiping out to taste the bottom lip Louis had been worrying seconds earlier.

Louis released his hold on Harry’s wrist to sink his hand into Harry’s curls, allowing Harry to cradle the side of Louis’ face, his thumb stroking along Louis’ jaw. Harry moaned into it as Louis’ fingers massaged his scalp before trailing down his spine and over to rest on his hip where Louis tugged on Harry’s hip until he was half sprawled across Louis’ lap, his leg slotted between Louis’.

The audience started clapping seconds before the house lights came up and Harry pulled back from Louis just enough to take in the way his lips had turned a dark pink, his eyes dark and unfocused. He was just this side of debauched and Harry groaned, leaning in for one quick kiss.

“Come on then,” Harry said, tugging on Louis’ arm. “Buy a bloke a drink.”

Harry’s skin felt like it was on fire. They were standing in the queue, people shuffling past with themed drinks, blood red cocktails, or flaming shots. Harry kept shooting shy little glances back at Louis, watching the way he’d smile, their arms brushing as the jostle of people around them moved them along. He wanted to be back in the dark theater, wanted to have Louis sprawled beneath him, wanted to make his lips bright red, wanted to see Louis completely wrecked. They made it up to the bar and Louis slung his arm around Harry’s hip, pulling him flush against his side. He knew his grin was bordering on manic, but he couldn’t stop it. Everything just felt better with Louis around and Harry knew he never wanted to go back to before, never wanted to be without that feeling.

“Hiya, mate,” Louis greeted the bartender. “Special’s on the theme drinks yeah?”

“Aye.”

“Right then, I’ll have two Shining’s then.”

The bartender turned to start mixing the drinks.

“’All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy’,” Louis whispered into Harry’s ear, a shiver working its way down his spine.

Two could play this game though, Harry thought, thinking back to the last time he’d seen the film. He’d been with Gemma and it’d been Halloween, they’d both been a bit too old for trick-or-treating, but there wasn’t much else going on, so she’d suggested a movie marathon and it’s what had sparked his obsession. Ever since that night he’d wanted to come to the very film night he was at with Louis right now.

He reached down and grabbed a handful of Louis’ arse, loving the way it felt in his hand. Louis squeaked and blinked at him, an eyebrow quirked.

“’Human nature, baby. Grab it and growl’,” Harry said with a wink.

Before Louis could retaliate, and Harry knew he wanted to, it was in his eyes, the bartender had their drinks ready. Louis gave Harry a lingering look that tugged somewhere low in his belly as he took the drinks off the bar top. Harry settled his hands on Louis hips, moving flush against Louis’ back so he could lean forward to place an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Louis’ neck. Harry released Louis only when they were back at their seats, taking the drink Louis held out to him.

“Cheers, mate,” Louis said with a wink.

Harry smiled and clinked his glass against Louis, feeling the warm burn of the Jack as it slid down his throat. This time he allowed himself to watch the way Louis’ throat worked as he swallowed his own drink, let his eyes linger in a way he knew Louis could feel. The lights flashed, and Harry threw back the rest of the drink, loving the way it burned down his throat, settling warm in his chest. As the lights dimmed, they settled into the seats naturally, Louis hand resting on Harry’s knee. It was comfortable and just being around Louis calmed something inside him. He rested his head against Louis’ shoulder, smiling when he felt Louis’ fingers run thought his hair. Sure, it was something everyone had always done to his mop of hair, and just a few days ago it’d annoyed him that Louis just thought he could muss his hair, but now, now it was perfect.

“That was brilliant,” Harry told Louis five hours later.

“I think Kevin would have enjoyed it,” Louis agreed.

Harry put his hands on Louis’ hips, halting their movement. “You know you don’t need to use Kevin as an excuse to take me out, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Louis parroted, moving in a bit closer.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed as he moved Louis back into the wall, capturing his lips in a kiss.

He was exhausted and he had to open the bakery in like an hour, but Louis’ hands were on his hips and his mouth tasted like whiskey and chocolate so he kept kissing him, chasing the taste around Louis’ mouth. Louis kissed him back, nibbling at Harry’s lip. They broke apart for air, Harry resting his lips against Louis’ neck. He felt Louis hands move up, palms flat against his back, as though he was cradling Harry to his body. It felt good, right there, face buried in Louis’ neck, Louis’ arms around him; Harry never wanted it to end, wanted to stay there forever.

“We’re closing it up, yeah?”

Harry nodded against Louis’ neck, belatedly realizing it was a useless gesture because there’s no way the bloke could see what he was doing. Probably just thought they were still snogging, which, Harry pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Louis’ neck, feeling the way his hands gripped his shoulders a bit harder. He smiled. The git could wait. Harry kissed up Louis’ neck, wanting to hear more of the little noises Louis was making.

“Oi,” the guy said as he pulled hard on Harry’s shoulder, yanking him away from Louis.

Louis moved up next to Harry, his arm resting loosely around Harry’s hip. Harry looked over at Louis; his eyes had gone cold as ice.

“Why don’t you sod off,” Louis growled.

“Look, we’re closed. Go have your snog outside.”

Louis dropped his arm from around Harry’s hip and moved closer to the poor sod. It made Harry shiver, knowing what Louis was capable of, seeing the darkness in his expressionless gaze. He wanted to ask, wanted to trace the edges of his face, smooth the lines near his eyes. He wouldn’t. In time, Louis would tell him. Harry cast another glance at Louis’ face…maybe he wouldn’t, but he hoped. Either way, he knew he could never ask; some ghosts weren’t meant to be discussed. The lad asking them to fuck off wasn’t being an unreasonable git, even if Harry wanted him to be, but Louis was pushing back, trying to make a fight out of something that wasn’t there.

“We’re waiting for a taxi and it’s pissing out there innit?”

The guy took a step closer, putting himself nose to nose with Louis.

“Look, mate – ”

Louis smiled coldly, his hand clenching into a fist at his side. Harry couldn’t quite sort it for himself, why Louis always just wanted to start something, like he wanted someone to hit him just so he could hit back. Harry pushed himself between Louis and the guy, trying to pull his attention back to him. It worked, and for a moment, Harry thought Louis was just going to sock him instead, the cold gaze still there, but Louis blinked and it was gone, replaced with the warmth Harry’d become addicted to over the past eight hours.

“Taxi’s here,” Harry said, nodding towards the street.

Louis smiled and ruffled Harry’s hair. Harry grinned up at him, took his hand and led him out to the waiting taxi. They were quiet as they settled in the back, the sun beginning to crest the horizon, early morning fog laying heavy on the ground. It made Harry sleepier, and having a warm Louis to snuggle up against wasn’t helping him.

“Where to lads?”

Louis nudged Harry with his shoulder.

“Sunshine Bakery, Harrogate Road,” Harry mumbled.

“Sunshine Bakery, Haz?” Louis voice was a teasing whisper against Harry’s ear.

“Shut it, you. It’s my job, isn’t it? During summer hols, I open. If it’s slow, I can have a bit of a kip in the back.”

“I’m a bad man,” Louis continued. “Keeping you up all night like this.”

Harry smiled. “It was for Kevin though, right, so worth it.”

“Course, since it was for Kevin, there’s a good lad.”

The taxi rolled to a stop in front of the bakery and Harry nearly fell out of the taxi, his legs not quite cooperating. Louis was there though, a steadying hand on his shoulder. Harry turned in his arms, hand cupping the side of Louis’ face, watching the way Louis’ eyes closed as he leaned into the touch. Harry kissed him gently, too sleepy to make it anything more intense.

“Morning, Lou,” Harry whispered against his lips.

“Morning, Hazza,” Louis replied, mussing Harry’s hair affectionately.

 

The counter bell jerked him awake. Harry wiped a hand down his face, grimacing at the bit of drool caught on the corner of his lip. His eyes flicked up when he heard muffled laugher, Liam and Niall leaning on each other for support as the continued to suppress their amusement poorly.

“You’re both a couple of tossers,” Harry groused.

“Good night then?” Niall asked as he came round the counter and went straight for the no sell items.

“Brilliant night. Kevin needs more birthdays,” Harry replied with a stupid grin he had to yawn around.

“Good thing it’s a slow day, yeah? With keen eyes like yours watching the place,” Liam told Harry, more serious than not.

“I hear the bell,” Harry argued as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“Gemma called, wondered if you’d stayed at mine again. She thought you’d forgotten a present for someone.”

Harry smiled. “It was for Kevin, but Lou wanted to open it. Can’t do that now can he? Not his gift.”

“Mental,” Niall said round a mouthful of day old cake.

Liam pulled Harry into a hug, Harry snuggling in close, enjoying the familiar embrace. “I’m happy for you, Hazza.”

“He text you yet?”

“Nah,” Harry replied, voice muffled against Liam’s chest. “Wanker’s probably still sleeping.”

Liam laughed as he pulled back and Harry smiled, glad things were good. For a moment, he allowed himself to enjoy the fact that everything in his life was damn near perfect. His mobile chimed and he pulled it from his pocket, smiling when he saw it was text from Louis.

“’Away match - Wolverhampton. Feed Kevin for me, will you?’” Harry read aloud, his earlier good mood souring a bit.

Away matches were always worse because you usually got the living piss kicked out of you because you were outnumbered and outmanned. Still, Harry remembered the thrill of it, all of the adrenaline building as you sat through interminable train rides, or worse yet, coaches. He remembered Wolverhampton though and from the way Liam’s eyes narrowed and Niall’s eyes widened, so did they. It’d been a few years back now, the three of them new to the firm, Greg having brought them in and they’d all been chuffed at pulling Wolverhampton. They had the worst reputation in the area, even though they usually won. They didn’t need to do anything flashy like bring knives or other weapons, but they still did; the biggest concern was how they used their surroundings. They used an underpass to lure the other lads in, hid in the corners and jumped out at them. Sure, they won most of their brawls, but they were shite about it. Harry caught a look at the now healing cut above Liam’s eyebrow and blinked away the tears that sprung to his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to think about it. It’d been the worst beating any of them had ever had and Harry could still see the dried blood on Liam’s lip, the way Niall’s nose had been at a painful angle, could still feel the way his lungs burned for days after, the bruising along his ribcage lasting for weeks.

“What do you feed a stuffed pigeon anyway?” Niall asked hesitantly.

Harry glanced over at him. There was a tentative little smile on his face as though he was unsure about the timing of his joke. It worked and Harry smiled back, watching Niall’s smile transform into something real.

“Same thing you feed real ones,” Harry replied. “Sunflower seeds.”

“God, you looked it up didn’t you?” Liam asked, a small smile teasing the corner of his mouth.

Harry could have hugged him again because he knew Liam was worried, probably about Zayn, and Harry wasn’t going to analyze that at the moment, but he went with Niall’s subject change, allowed them to move beyond thoughts they’d have time for later.

“Course I did,” Harry replied proudly. “It was his birthday, wasn’t it? Had to get him the right thing.”

 

Harry smiled as he closed up the bakery. It was nice to be left in charge of it for a few days while the owners were on a bit of a holiday to visit their grandchildren in Manchester. Sure, the day had been a bit slow, but he’d been able to work on the recipe Gemma’d brought back with her from her study abroad in America. He had a bundle of the chocolate chip cookies under his shoulder, knowing Niall and Liam would be eager to taste them for him. Neither bloke afraid to tell him it tasted like shite, not that Niall wouldn’t continue to eat it.

His smile faded as he pushed open the door. Niall was on the couch, looking as though someone told him they’d cancelled supper while Liam just sort of stared at the wall, his shoulders hunched in on himself. He cast a curious glance at Niall who just shook his head a bit and motioned towards Liam.

“Li?” Harry put the cookies down on the table and moved over to where Liam was sitting near the window, staring at nothing.

“Zayn,” Liam began, turned to look at Harry. “He dislocated his shoulder in Wolverhampton.”

Harry blinked slowly, forcing himself to keep a straight face because really, it was Zayn and Harry couldn’t believe Liam was this upset over Zayn dislocating his shoulder. Sure, it hurt, and it would bruise and be sore for a few days, but he’d live. And, Zayn was Liam’s – frenemy – that was a good enough word. But, Harry couldn’t understand why Liam would be this upset about it. He didn’t have to understand it to at least attempt to be sympathetic to his best mate though.

“Liam – I’m – ” Harry stopped abruptly, everything Liam hadn’t said hitting him all at once.

He practically ran to the bus station, his head full of white noise, the look on Liam’s face enough to make him a bit panicky. The 240 was running a few minutes behind and Harry was pacing the stand in such a way that people keep casting concerned glances at him. He tried smiling, but he doubted it did him a damn bit of good. Forty-five minutes later, he was standing outside Zayn’s flat, glad Liam had texted him the address – he’d find out later why the fuck Liam had it. He knocked on the door, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. Zayn opened the door, in nothing but his boxers and really what sort of tosser did that? He was looking about as good as Liam’d supposed and maybe Liam had cause to be concerned, frenemy or not. It was unfair, really, for a man who’d clearly gotten the bloody piss kicked out of him to look so damn attractive. Even with the purpling bruises clearly visible under his stubble, Zayn looked like a fucking model or some shit, course him being shirtless didn’t help. Even the painful looking bruising along his shoulder, no doubt from the forced dislocation didn’t detract from his general beauty.

“Where is he?”

Zayn didn’t look terribly surprised to see Harry standing outside his flat, not that his fucking anime eyes, Liam really knew how to pick them, gave much away. He tossed his head backwards.

“In the back.”

Harry held Zayn’s gaze for a moment longer than was strictly polite, but it was the first time he’d been in the blokes flat, and they didn’t have any sort of bromance, so out of the firm or not, it still rather felt as though he were walking into dangerous territory. He moved past Zayn, still expecting some sort of reaction, a word, a glance, a yell for him to fuck off, but it never came.

It took a minute for Harry’s brain to process what he was seeing, the dried blood, the bruising, the not quite healing gashes, and the – Harry’s brain chose that moment to just sort of turn off. Louis looked up, clearly startled.

“What the hell’s this then?” Harry demanded.

Louis looked confused.

“Why the bloody fuck didn’t you go to the doctor?”

 Harry pressed his finger to Louis’ eyebrow, checking to see how bad the tear really was. Louis hissed in a breath, his teeth clenched tightly together and later, Harry would feel badly about it, later Harry would have sympathy for his pain, but now he was too busy thinking of a million ways to call Louis a fucking tosser.

Harry felt Zayn behind him and spun around. “Why the hell didn’t you take him to the bloody doctor?”

Zayn shrugged, an almost amused look on his face that made Harry grit his teeth. “Didn’t want to go, did he?”

“Useless,” Harry muttered as he turned back to Louis, not missing the glance Louis shot Zayn.

He batted Louis’ hands away from where he was poking at the purpling bruise on his chin, ignoring the way Louis pouted at him.

“Good I can put stitches in then, innit?” Harry said as he turned back to Zayn. “Got a kit?”

Zayn raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“Why would you know that?”

“He’s cleaned up Liam enough times hasn’t he, he ought to know,” Zayn said as he handed Harry the kit.

Harry blinked at Zayn, once again wondering how he’d know that.

“Oi, you sure you know what you’re doing there?” Louis asked, eyeing the needle like it was going to kill him.

Harry rolled his eyes. He pushed as gently as he could around Louis’ eyebrow, feeling for any bit of gravel, or whatever that could’ve been left in. The eyebrow ring Harry’d been salivating over a couple of days ago had been ripped straight off his face, the skin torn in a jagged line. Harry poured a liberal amount of disinfectant on the cotton before pressing it against the wound, hearing Louis hiss as the cotton absorbed the blood.

“Got a lighter?” Harry asked, knowing Zayn was still there, watching. He didn’t have time to be bothered, really.

Zayn handed on to him and Harry quickly threaded the needle before sanitizing it with the flame. Harry took off his leather band bracelet and held it out to Louis.

“Tuck it between your teeth so you don’t bite off your tongue.”

Louis’ eyes widened and Harry just stared at him, eyes unblinking. This wasn’t exactly going to be painless, but Louis hadn’t wanted the hospital, so this was his only other option. Once the band was between Louis’ teeth, Harry placed one hand on Louis face, a tender caress because he could, because damnit, he cared, but he was still angry. He arranged Louis into an uncomfortable position, but it gave Harry the best angle on his eyebrow. He pushed the needle through the skin, making short, even stitches, wanting to keep the scarring at a minimum, even if the tosser might like it, might think it was dashing or some other rubbish thing. Harry didn’t miss the way Louis’ eyes were screwed shut, the way his hand was wrapped into a fist so tight his knuckles were white. He was being as gentle as he could, but he was literally stitching rent bits of flesh back together; it was going to hurt.

He was becoming entirely too familiar with stitching up wounds because he could remember when it used to bother him, when it would make his stomach roll, but not anymore. A few tears were trickling down Louis’ face and once Harry tied off the knot, he used his thumb to brush them away, appreciating that Louis didn’t flinch away from him. He pulled the Germolene out and dabbed it along the stitching, hoping the ointment would help heal the tear with minimal scarring. He moved back a bit, surveying his work and decided it was a decent job. There didn’t appear to be any other areas that needed stitching which made Harry settle a bit.

Louis stood to his feet, turning so he could have a look at himself in the mirror, but when he went to step on his right leg, he stumbled and Harry and Zayn both went to catch him, only managing to help guide him to the ground. He sat sprawled on the floor, a grimace on his face as he looked at his useless leg with a fair amount of contempt. Harry crouched down next to him and bit his tongue.

“What happened here then?” Harry asked, his voice carefully low and even.

“Someone got me with a brick,” Louis answered as though it was something that happened all the time and shouldn’t be treated as a thing.

“They could’ve broken the bone,” Zayn said from where he was leaning against the door jam, arms crossed over his chest in a manner that was anything but casual.

Harry didn’t miss the look on Louis’ face as his eyes flickered back to meet Zayn’s briefly. It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one upset about how badly Louis was beaten. There was a dark bruise, so blue it was nearly black on Louis’ thigh. Around it looked like road rash, the skin torn and full of bits of stone, as though he’d been drug behind someone’s motor. Harry didn’t say anything, couldn’t look Louis in the eyes for fear of what he’d say. He reached into the kit and pulled out a pair of tweezers, needing to get all the bits of rock and concrete out of his skin. It felt like it took ages to get it all cleaned out and when he poured the antiseptic over the area, Louis hissed through his teeth again. Harry rubbed the Germolene in, hoping it would take away some of the sting and covered it with gauze.

Harry spent the next bit of time wiping away all of the dried blood and clearing up the little nicks he found littering Louis’ body, but fortunately he’d already seen the worst of it. It was decidedly different, patching up Louis, than it was patching up Liam. Mostly because Harry wanted to trace all of Louis’ bruises with his mouth, trail his tongue along them so he could feel, could taste them, absorb some of the pain into himself. He stopped himself though because each time he looked at Louis, mapped the bruises, the little cuts, he couldn’t find a place to put his hands, his lips, that wouldn’t cause Louis more pain.

Louis could read his mind, Harry decided as Louis reached up and pulled Harry down for a kiss. It helped Harry a bit, grounded him, allowed him to truly believe Louis would be okay because he was solid and moving against him, lips warm and pliant. Harry moved his hands around Louis’ back, holding his shoulders, helping lever him back up to a standing position. A low heat was curling in Harry’s belly as he maneuvered Louis into the wall, slotting his leg between Louis’. He moved his hand to Louis’ face, cupping it, his thumb stroking along the underside of his jaw. Louis made a pained noise and Harry snapped back as though he’d been the one hurt.

“Harry,” Louis called, trying to pull Harry back to him. “Come on, it’s fine, come back here.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not _fine_ , Lou! Damnit, I can’t bloody well touch you without you flinching. Christ.”

“You come all the way out here to yell at me then?” Louis asked, voice hard.

“No you stupid sod, I came out here because I was worried, because it’s fucking Wolverhampton isn’t it? You’ve been itching for a good scrap, and now you’ve got yourself one, haven’t you? And now, I’m here stitching you back together. Don’t know why I bother, really. You’re just going to go back out there and get yourself fucked again, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you a fine hypocrite then? How many times you get yourself in a scrap, eh? Got out so you could stand there and judge the rest of us, did you? Saint Harry Styles, too good for us scrappers now.”

“Oh fuck off, will you? This is more than a bloody scrap. Someone took a bloody brick to your leg and tore out your eyebrow ring – a bloody brick, Louis! Right, today it was just your leg, right? It’ll heal up well enough, but next time yeah? What about then? What if it’s not your leg then? I know they had knives, too. You’ve got cuts all along your chest there,” Harry pointed to a thin line that followed along one of his ribs. “That’s why I got out you pillock! Don’t fancy seeing my mates dead – I can’t – ”

Harry broke off abruptly, not able to say it aloud, not to himself, not to Louis. It was mad because he’d only known the bloke for a week, but he couldn’t handle the thought of Louis not coming back from one of the fights, couldn’t handle the idea of Louis not being round anymore. It was all so stupid because it wasn’t fun anymore. There wasn’t the same rush because it wasn’t just about knowing you’d heal from a couple of punches. It was now about knowing you were clever enough to not get stabbed and it was stupid. The pain was visible on Louis’ face and whether it was from the wounds or from Harry, he couldn’t tell. He tore his eyes away from Louis face, spun on his heel and didn’t even acknowledge the knowing look on Zayn’s face as he walked out the door, the slam of it sounding too final for his liking.

Liam’s flat was dark as he let himself in, not wanting to be alone tonight. He made his way down the corridor, only stubbing his toe once on something he couldn’t quite discern in the darkness, his shoes back somewhere in the living room. He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner of Liam’s room, his trousers joining it before crawled into Liam’s bed.

“Harry?” Liam’s voice was heavy with sleep, but he adjusted to give room for Harry to settle himself.

Harry simply wrapped himself around Liam, holding him as close to his body as possible as his body began to shake, silent sobs wracking through his body. It was everything and Harry just couldn’t take anymore, not tonight. He’d patched up Liam not even a week ago, the images of Liam being a bloody mess merging and warping into images of Louis, bloody and unmoving. He was being paranoid, he was being overly dramatic and he knew it, but he was still scared. Liam just stroked his hands down Harry’s back, allowing Harry to sort through his emotions as he needed. There was no need for Liam to ask him what was wrong because he knew, because he’d been the one to send him to Louis. He shook so much he thought he’d make himself sick, and he wanted to stop, tried to calm himself down a bit, but it wasn’t working. Slowly, the silent sobs turned into hiccups, tears wetting his cheeks. The shaking still wouldn’t subside and he held Liam tighter, wrapped his legs around him, anything to anchor him to something real, to keep him from just falling into the dark mess of thoughts in his head.  

Grey morning light filtering in through the curtains woke Harry. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he could feel the crinkle of dried tears on his cheeks, the sandpaper feeling in his eyes. He was still wrapped around Liam like an octopus, but he could feel his even breathing beneath his hand. Last night still felt like a nightmare, the phantoms of it still heavy in Harry’s mind.

“Morning,” Liam mumbled.

“Morning.”

“Rough night?”

“Stitches.”

“Christ.”

“I botched things up with Louis,” Harry muttered.

Liam turned in Harry’s arms, eyes intent on Harry, even though Harry could see he was still a bit knackered. Harry moved his hands, one fiddling with the edge of the sheet.

“He looked so gutted when I left, yeah? But, like, I did anyway because I was so bleeding pissed at him. Didn’t saying anything to him either. Just left. I won’t blame him for hating me.”

“He won’t hate you, Haz,” Liam said as he ran a hand through Harry’s mop of curls. “You two will sort it.”

“You should’ve seen him, Li,” Harry continued, eyes wide. “He was so wrecked. Someone tore out his fucking eyebrow ring, took a brick to his thigh – I just wanted to hold him, you know? Just hold him and never let him leave, but that’s stupid right? Because I know he’s with the firm, know he’s going to have Zayn’s back. That’s cool, he should have his cousin’s back, but I – I can’t lose him.”

“He’ll come round to that, you know?”

“I’m such an idiot. Called me a hypocrite, right? And like, I am. I got out, but I’m still round, still waking up in your fucking bed like nothing’s changed, but going on bout how stupid it was for him to go and get all fucked up like that. Like I’m better than him or something, but I’m not.”

“Ring him up then. Tell him – tell him about Ipswich.”

Harry looked at Liam as though he’d lost his ever loving mind.

“Or don’t, right, but he’s going to wonder, yeah?”

Harry buried his face in Liam’s chest. “I’m going to the bakery.”

“Make more of them cookies, will you? Niall ate most of them, and they were brilliant.”

“Yeah? I’ll tell Gemma you lads liked them.”

“Make more – maybe Louis will like them to? Nothing says ‘Sorry I’m a tosser’ like a chocolate chip cookie.”

“Fuck off.”

Liam tussled Harry’s hair. Harry shook him off and rolled from the bed.

 

It’d been two days since he’d seen Louis and sure, he knew he could ring him up, maybe send him a text, but he hadn’t done either. He’d hidden himself in the bakery making an obscene amount of chocolate chip cookies to the point that even Niall told him it was just too many cookies. Clearly, Harry had a problem. Luckily, they were selling quite well in the front of house, which meant he didn’t need to take quite so many of them home. Even Gemma was beginning to roll her eyes at him.  

Harry wiped a hand across his forehead.

“Flour’s a good look on you.”

Harry’s eyes snapped up. Louis was standing in front of the display case, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes darting around the room, weight shuffling from one foot to the other. The bakery was smaller suddenly, the door too far away, the heat from the oven stifling. He stared at Louis, words caught in his throat. The bruises were fading, the skin around the stitches no longer a sickly yellow. In many ways, Harry could almost forget it had happened, could almost ignore the way his stomach clenched at the memory of wiping the blood from his face.

“Nothing says sorry I’m a tosser like a chocolate chip cookie.”

“What?”

“Something Liam told me.”

“You gonna give me one then?”

“I’m sorry.”

Louis smiled and tossed his hair a bit.

“I meant a cookie, Harold.”

“Oh right.”

Harry looked down at his toes. Louis’ hands on his shoulders startled Harry a bit, causing him to jerk and Louis dropped his hands, eyes wide.

“No – I – ” Harry reached out for Louis, stepping forward a bit to catch him.

He put his hand against Louis cheek, feeling the warmth of his flesh, moving his body closer because Louis wasn’t moving away. They were close enough now for Harry to see the dark circles under Louis’ eyes, the wariness as he looked at Harry.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered.

“Harry – ” Louis’ voice was just as soft.

Harry pressed his lips to Louis’, trying to convey everything he couldn’t say, couldn’t find the words for. It was an apology, it was a promise, it was a desperate need for someone he couldn’t remember ever living without. Louis’ hands went to Harry’s hips, holding him flush against his body. Harry moved his hands down Louis’ face, to his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“I’m a bad man,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips. “I don’t have any cookies either.”

Harry shook his head. “Don’t need cookies. This, this is good.”

Louis’ laugh was swallowed by Harry’s kiss. He moved his hands down Louis’ back, bunching the hem of his t-shirt. Harry moved his lips against Louis’ as though they had all the time in the world, it a wet slide of their lips, his tongue sneaking out to lick along his lower lip, memorizing the flavor. Louis was warm and solid against him, opening his mouth for Harry’s tongue, allowing Harry to move deeper and he did, pushed his tongue past Louis’ lips, licking along the roof of his mouth, feeling Louis’ moan against him. When Louis broke away to suck in a breath Harry moved his lips down to Louis neck, sucking along the tendon, down to his collarbone. He licked into the dip, feeling as well as hearing Louis shuttering breath.

Harry moved his hands to Louis’ hips, rucking up the hem, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers. He liked the way Louis’ hips felt in his hands, the softness of his flesh, the way it fit so perfectly in his hands. He pushed his thumbs in, feeling the way the muscle moved, hearing the breathy moan Louis let out, so he pressed a little harder, moving his thumb in a circular motion along the ridge of the hipbone. He wanted his mouth there, wanted to taste the skin for himself, swipe his tongue along the line of his hip, bite into the soft skin in the dip of his hipbone, press a kiss, leave his mark there.

The oven timer went off and Harry groaned against Louis’ neck.

“Could ignore it,” Louis suggested, voice rough.

Harry was tempted because he liked the way Louis’ voice sounded, wanted to make it sound even more gone, but he couldn’t just let the oven go – couldn’t let things burn.

“Can’t – fire wouldn’t be good for business.”

Louis laughed as Harry moved away. Harry watched as Louis levered himself up onto the counter and shook his head because he was fairly certain that wasn’t the most sanitary thing, and equally certain he’d not get Louis’ bum off it. He opened the oven door and was assaulted by the sweet smell of the chocolate chip cookies. Liam and Niall might have been happy with them, but Harry wasn’t convinced. There still seemed to be something off, not enough vanilla, too hard. These smelled amazing though, the tops just lightly browned and he could feel Louis’ eyes on him. Harry pulled the cookies from the oven and set them on the cooling rack, hands on his hips as he eyed them, finally feeling as though he’d made them the proper size.

“What’s this then?” Louis said from where he’d slid up behind Harry, resting his hands on Harry’s hips.

Harry turned his head, smiling at the bright smile on Louis’ face.

“Cookies. It’s a recipe Gemma got from one of her mates in America. She did a study abroad at Uni.”

Harry slapped Louis’ hand when he reached forward to snatch one off the counter.

“Oi!”

“Wait till they’ve cooled a bit,” Harry replied with a smile.

Louis pouted and Harry turned his head to press a kiss to the edge of Louis’ mouth.

“Cheating that is, Hazza,” Louis murmured as he realigned his lips for a proper kiss.

“Mmmhm.” It was all Harry could manage with Louis’ lips against his, not that he minded, of course. Kissing Louis was quickly becoming his favorite pastime. He stroked his thumb along the hollow behind Louis’ ear, moving down to feel the pulse stutter.

“You promised me cookies, Harold.”

With a smile, Harry pulled back and reached behind him to nick a cookie off the counter. He held it out in front of Louis’ mouth, pulling it just out of reach as Louis leaned forward to take a bite. Louis made an impatient sound and went to take another bite, Harry moved the cookie a bit more and Louis went for it, missing, but redirected and nipped playfully at Harry’s ear.   

“Rude.”

Harry laughed and held the cookie still long enough for Louis to take a bite. He moaned obscenely around it, tongue snaking out to lick at the melted chocolate that landed against his lower lip. Harry felt his eyes track the movement, knew his lips were parted slightly, his eyes no doubt glazed over. Louis took another bite of the cookie, his tongue teasing Harry’s finger and it was enough. Harry dropped the cookie, he’d have to sweep the floor later anyway, and pulled Louis against his body, covering his lips with his own. The trace of chocolate still sweet on Louis’ lips.

“Am I forgiven?” Harry whispered, licking at the chocolate caught in the corner of Louis’ mouth.

“Not rightly sure, you see. Might take another one of those cookies,” Louis said as he snagged one off the counter and shoved the whole thing in his mouth, wiping crumbs off with the back of his hand causing Harry to laugh because of course that’s how Louis would decide to eat a second cookie. “And another bit of a snog, yeah?”

“Utterly useless you are,” Harry replied fondly.

“Um, hello?”

Harry moved back from Louis, willing himself not to blush, but knowing he would be anyway.

“Hiya,” Harry greeted the matronly woman standing a bit awkwardly at the front of the shop. “How can I help?”

She smiled kindly at Harry, a bit of a knowing smile teasing the edge of her lips. She looked at the case for a few minutes and Harry took the time to fix his hair, which made Louis laugh because it involved a lot of shaking and finger combing.

“What would you recommend, dearie? I’ve got my grandkids for the weekend, down from Edinburgh they are and I want to have a bit of a treat for them.”

“Should try the cookies, love,” Louis called as he walked out from the kitchen.

Harry glared over his shoulder, not that he got anything but a cheeky wink for his troubles.

“Go see to the oven, Haz,” Louis whispered.

Harry almost squeaked as he scampered back into the kitchen, not needing the burn the bloody place down around his feet.

“Cookies?”

“American, with little bits of chocolate folded in,” Louis answered, eyes sparkling like she’s in on the secret, even though there’s no secret. “Fancy a sample?”

She nodded and Harry took a cookie up to Louis because really he didn’t have an option. He didn’t know how much he was going to sell them for because he’d mostly just been messing about in the kitchen, hoping the recipe would be good. It wasn’t something he’d planned on selling, not without talking to the owners about it first, once they got back from their holiday.

“Oh yes,” the woman said, eyes sparkling – it was like Louis’ eyes were contagious or something. “Those are quite lovely. How many for a dozen then?”

“Harold! Harold, please move your adorable bum out here.”

Harry smiled at the woman who looked between the two of them with a knowing look and she leaned in across the counter, a conspiratorial look on her face.

“It’s alright boys,” she whispered. “I’m keen on the ways of you youngins. Had a bit of a following myself, in my day of course.”

Harry grinned because the woman was adorable as she patted her hair. He could imagine her too, a flirty bat of her eyes, a little crook of her finger and the boys would come running. It was something he figured Louis had learned in primary school. Always happened to the beautiful people.

“Oh I bet you did, love,” Louis responded, his grin as cheeky as hers. “Don’t mind Harold here,” Louis continued as he pinched his arse.

Louis looked back and forth around the room, even though he knew they were alone as he leaned across the counter to whisper to her. “A bit of a blusher, if you know what I mean.”

Harry knew he was blushing now, and later he was going to kill Louis and have Liam help bury the body out back.

“My first husband used to blush, too,” the woman told Louis. “Endearing trait it was.”

“How bout we box a dozen of them cookies up for you, yeah?”

“Oh that would be lovely.”

“I – uh, I haven’t got them priced yet. They’re, um, new.”

“Don’t you worry, dearie,” she told him as she pulled a bill from her wallet, passing it over to Louis. “Take what you need for the cookies; use the rest to buy him something nice?”

Louis leaned further over the counter and kissed the woman’s cheek. “Right you are, love. Right you are.”

Numbly, Harry boxed up the cookies and handed them to the woman who just kept grinning at him and he smiled because it was the only thing he could think to do. When the woman was gone, Harry turned to say something to Louis, but nothing came to him because Louis was charming and infuriating and was smiling like he was the sun and in that moment Harry was damn well convinced he was. Louis had pulled himself back up onto the counter, legs bouncing against the back like he was a bloody toddler, and sometimes he was and it was endearing and Harry ran a hand through his hair because he didn’t know what to do with Louis, always felt sort of out of sync, but it was perfect because it was Louis.

“You’re a bit of a twat, you know.”

Louis smiled even wider and Harry found himself smiling in return.

 

Two days later, Harry was standing outside Louis’ flat, hands twitching nervously by his sides. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Louis, because, he did – it’d been ages. And it wasn’t _good for him_ , no matter what excuses Gemma gave, and yeah, she did need help with the flat, and their parents had come round for a proper family meal, and no not every waking second of his life had to be with Louis, but he could hope. They’d texted each other, Louis sending him stupid pictures of random things, like one really awful close up of Zayn’s gage. It’d been brilliant because he’d been able to show it to Liam and watch the way he blushed because he recognized it without any sort of explanation from Harry.

Harry brought his hand up to the door and knocked brusquely and Zayn answered the door.

“Don’t you ever wear a shirt?” Harry blurted as his eyes traveled the length of Zayn’s torso and Christ, he was only human. Liam had good taste in bromances, or frenemies or whatever the fuck they were because Zayn was a fit bloke who answered the door in nothing but his bloody boxers.

When his eyes finally made it back up to Zayn’s face, and he’d feel more guilty about it later, honest, Zayn had one eyebrow raised.

“I’d apologize,” Zayn said with a shrug, “but, it’s my flat.”

Harry shook his head as Zayn opened the door wide for him. He couldn’t say anything, but he could feel his blush. It was ridiculous because it was his flat, but surely he could put on a bloody shirt to open his fucking door.

“Er, right,” Harry stammered as he mussed his hair. He moved past Zayn, careful to keep an appropriate distance between their bodies.

His palms were sweating, and not from being a bit too up close and personal with Zayn’s nipples, as he stood in front of Louis’ closed door. He could hear him shuffling around inside and for a horrifying moment, Harry imagined Louis inside his room wearing nothing but his boxers and while a half-naked Louis was normally a brilliant thing, really, it wasn’t conducive to why he was here.

“Please be dressed,” Harry whispered to himself, feeling like a proper idiot.

“Boundaries, mate,” Louis said without looking up, “What if I’d been in here having a wank?”

“I could lend a hand,” Harry said with a cheeky grin.

“Harold!”

“Zayn see you wanking often then?”

“I’m a proper gentleman, Harold. I’d never tell.”

Harry smiled into Louis’ lips, not sure when he’d moved in close enough for a kiss, but Louis had this way just always being in motion and it was hard for Harry to keep track of him. Louis lips were soft and warm against his; he moaned into it when Louis’ fingers sunk into his curls, massaging his scalp and pulling him closer against his body. He could feel the familiar rush, the warmth pooling in his stomach as his fingers scrambled along the hem of Louis’ shirt, fingers tracing the smooth skin above Louis’ hip. It was nearly impossible for Harry to break away, breath coming out in short little pants and it was a miracle Louis did have his shirt on or he wasn’t sure he’d’ve managed.

“Not what I came for,” Harry panted.

“S’not? Don’t fancy a snog with me then, Hazza?”

Harry smiled at Louis teasing tone, the little kisses Louis was pressing to his neck, to the hallow behind his ear. It was all so distracting, so lovely and honestly, he’d love to just fall against the bed and have Louis snog the life out of him, but they couldn’t, not yet. He’d spent most of the morning, and the entire bus ride over getting it all straight in his head, sorting out what he’d say. Louis lips had moved back to his and Harry was kissing back because Louis tasted like sunshine and how could he not? They didn’t fall into the bed, but somehow Harry now had his leg slotted between Louis’, Louis braced against the wall as they rubbed against each other obscenely, his hands kneading Harry’s arse and it was fucking brilliant.

“No,” Harry breathed against Louis’ neck. “Need to – ”

His words were swallowed by Louis mouth, his tongue pushing its way into Harry’s mouth and he moaned because it was _Louis_. Harry managed to get his hands on Louis’ and pinned them above his head. Louis blinked, eyes bright with mischief, his lips red and swollen from kisses and Harry couldn’t let his eyes linger there because it was too much, Louis was like his own persona little minx and he wanted to make him look even more debauched, with fewer clothes and have his lips not be the only red part of his body.

“Need to talk,” Harry rasped, his voice low and gravely which was unfortunate because he saw the way Louis’ eyes fluttered and it was attractive as fuck to know how his voice affected him, but they couldn’t, not until they’d discussed _something,_ anything.

“Bit of a tease, Styles,” Louis pouted, but there was a smile in his eyes.

“Later,” Harry promised because he desperately wanted more.

“Promises,” Louis baited.

Harry growled as he moved his face close to Louis. “You want me, Lou? Want me to slide to my knees, suck your cock? You want that?”

“Christ, Harry,” Louis breathed, his eyes wide, slightly glazed. “Can’t just say shite like that to a bloke.”

Harry grinned and moved to sit on the bed, forcing some space between their bodies, hoping it would damper the inferno inside him enough to have the conversation they needed to have. He wasn’t teasing because he’d thought about it a last night, the night before, well, yeah – he’d thought about it, about sliding to his knees, taking Louis’ cock in his mouth, letting Louis fuck into him, imagined how he’d taste and Harry had to stop those thoughts because he saw Louis’ eyes darken and knew his thoughts had been visible on his face.

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Harry blurted, wishing the words back as soon as they’d past his lips. It’s not that they weren’t true, but it’s not how he’d rehearsed it and Louis looked as though Harry’d kicked him and god he was such an arse.

“I’m – I said horrible things, Harry.”

Harry blinked because he was sure he’d never heard that tone from Louis; it was one of complete sincerity, utter seriousness and it made Harry want to cry because it wasn’t his fault, not really and this wasn’t about making Louis feel bad. 

“I know how it looks, don’t I?” Harry continued as though Louis hadn’t said anything. “And maybe I am a bit of a hypocrite because I did brawl and I like a bit of a scrap, right, but that’s not it. And I’d never ask you to stop, just like I’d never as Liam because _that_ would make me one, right? And I’m not – it’s just not fun anymore and that’s childish and stupid, but what’s the point if it’s not fun? I don’t give a toss about football, or Bradford or any of the other bleeding firms. I only did it because Liam got in and there’s Niall, and we’re mates, right? Known each other forever and – ”

“Harry, Harry, love, stop.”

Harry took a breath and met Louis’ eyes, looking at the warmth there, the way he was smiling softly and with a degree of fondness that made Harry’s heart melt a little.

“I’ve gotta say it, Lou,” Harry pleaded. “I’m out, and I don’t want back in because I can’t after Ipswich, and all the shite from that, but I’m not really out, yeah? Because Liam, he’s, he’s in and I’ll always have his back if he needs me.” Harry smiled a bit ruefully. “Sometimes even when he doesn’t want me to, especially now that I’m sorta out.”

“Read about that one in the papers,” Louis said with a nod, as though he knew everything. It was frustrating and endearing because Harry was inclined to believe that Louis just knew because it was Louis and of course he did. He probably knew it wasn’t a proper firm fight – that, they weren’t even members of a firm, but a few of the lads had beaten them anyway, handicapped people just trying to avoid getting trampled by the fans storming the pitch.

“Nasty business, corning those people like that.”

“Not really the point, here,” Harry said, exasperated, even if there was a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

“It is though,” Louis pressed. “I know, alright? I don’t give a toss about the firm. I’m here for Zayn – just like you’re there for Liam. I don’t want to get out though, no matter what because Zayn, he’s, he’s all the family I have left, yeah? So long as he’s in, so am I.”

“I didn’t like seeing you hurt,” Harry whispered. “I can’t – I can’t lose you.”

He couldn’t meet Louis’ eyes, couldn’t believe he’d said all that aloud because it was mental and it was too much and it was too fast, too soon, too everything and Louis was going to walk way. Louis’ hand was cupping his face though, drawing his gaze and maybe it wasn’t, maybe it was just them. Mad first dates, naming pigeons – crazy whirlwind of everything that just fit for them, just clicked. He smiled up at Louis and it was a bit tentative, a bit shy, but Louis was smiling warmly at him, eyes soft, without the cutting edge they usually had.

“I’m not that easy to get rid of, Hazza.”

“Good,” Harry said against Louis’ lips because he was kissing him, lips warm and real against his.

Harry moaned into it because he could, because Louis and him would be okay. There was something about kissing Louis though, the way they moved together, the way he tasted that made Harry want to hold on tight, like a little kid with a balloon grasped so tightly in their little fist because they were terrified the wind would come and whisk it away. So he did, he clenched his fists into the material of Louis’ shirt, making it so Louis couldn’t fly away. He felt Louis’ hands in his hair and moaned as Louis’ lips traveled along his jaw, before clamping down tightly against his neck. Harry moved his head to the side a bit more, wanting to feel Louis all over him, giving Louis what he clearly wanted, knowing Louis was marking him, love the knowledge that Louis wanted to mark him.

Louis lifted his arms above his head and Harry could take a hint. He pulled the material up over Louis’ head and let his eyes linger on all the new skin now exposed. Louis was perfect. Harry grabbed Louis’ hips and pulled him closer, needing him closer. Of course, the abrupt movement had Louis stumbling a bit and they sort of fell in a mess of limbs on Louis’ bed, but that just meant more of Louis was in contact with him and really that was a bit of alright.

“Promised you’d get me off, Harold,” Louis said, his lips dragging against Harry’s.

Harry smiled as his lips moved up Louis’ neck. He locked is legs around Louis, bringing their cocks together in a way that had them both moaning and Harry flipped them over. Louis’ eyes fluttered open, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ of surprise. He looked debauched, but it wasn’t enough, there was still too much of his iris showing, his eyes not quite as gone as Harry wanted them. Harry bit along Louis’ jaw, his stubble scratchy against his tongue and it made Louis’ writhe beneath him. It was better, Harry thought, much better.

With a wicked smile he knew Louis saw, Harry moved his hand down to palm Louis roughly, dragging a moan out of him. The sound made Harry shiver and he quickly undid Louis trousers and worked them down his legs quickly, laughing a bit when they got caught on Louis’ Toms. Louis helped him out by toeing them off, but Harry still laughed because it was ridiculous and Louis didn’t wear socks, ever.

“Harrrry,” Louis whined, wiggling his hips.

Harry nipped at Louis’ lip with a smile, watching the way it made Louis wiggle for an entirely different reason. He soothed it with the flat of his tongue, savoring the feel of Louis’ skin pleased that it tasted as soft as it looked, if something could taste soft. His fingers trailed up Louis’ sides, finding that all of Louis’ skin felt as soft as the curve of his hip. It was amazing, find the spots that made Louis moan, the ones that made him gasp, the ones that made him squirm and that one near his ribs that made Louis giggle and bat at Harry’s hands. Harry decided he liked that one best and he crawled up Louis body giving Louis a cheeky wink before he latched his lips onto the spot and sucked until Louis was bucking beneath him wildly, laughing and gasping, hands batting at Harry’s back in a futile attempt to dislodge him. He pulled the skin between his teeth, biting down slightly until Louis stopped flailing. With a smile, he released it, knowing there’d be a mark. He blew across the skin, watching the way Goosebumps broke out across his side.

“My new favorite spot,” Harry murmured against Louis skin as he pressed one last kiss to the area.

He could feel Louis trembling beneath him as he trailed his hands back down his sides. At the top of Louis’ boxer briefs, Harry paused, looked up at Louis from under his eyelashes and saw the way Louis’ eyes, so dark they were nearly black, tracked every movement he made.

“This what you want, baby?” Harry purred as he closed his mouth around the tip of Louis’ cock where it was straining against the confines of his boxer briefs.

 “You’re a cruel, cruel man, Harry Styles,” Louis managed.

Harry smiled as he sucked a bit harder, tonguing along the length a bit before moving back up to suck at the head. He pulled off with a wet noise. If Louis was still capable of forming complete sentences, Harry wasn’t doing good enough. He pulled down Louis’ pants just enough to get his mouth around Louis’ dick, taking him down until he felt the tip brush the back of his throat. Taking a breath though his nose, he released his throat and felt Louis slip in a bit further.

“Christ, Harry.”

He hummed at the praise, loving the way Louis felt in his mouth, the weight of him against his tongue. Just like the rest of him, he tasted soft even here and Harry moved his tongue just a bit to make sure it was the same everywhere. He pulled off, watched Louis’ dick flop back against his stomach.

“That what you wanted, Lou?” Harry asked as he nosed along the length. “Want me to take you back in my mouth? Suck you slow and deep?”

“Mmgah.”

Harry decided that non-English was a yes and happily gripped the base of Louis dick, licking at the tip teasingly, watching Louis’ head shake back and forth as he let out the most beautiful little noises.

“Put a sock on the door or something next time, yeah?” Zayn hollered.

Harry laughed as Louis groaned, a hand thrown over his eyes.

“Do you even own socks?” Harry teased as he worked his hand over Louis’ cock. He heard the door close and bit his lip to hide his laugh.

“Gunah.”

That was better, Harry thought as he took Louis back in his mouth, sucking him eagerly. He felt Louis try to fuck into him and later, later he’d definitely let Louis do that, but now Harry wanted to feel him come apart beneath him so he gripped Louis hips and pressed him into the mattress. Louis’ hands clenched around the curls on his head, tugging just this side of painful and it made Harry smile and hum a bit around Louis’ cock. He held Louis down with one hand and moved the other down to roll Louis’ balls in his hand. They were heavy and soft in his hand, everything about Louis’ skin was soft and Harry wanted to spend hours, lifetimes mapping it all with his fingers, with his tongue. Louis was pulling Harry’s hair more violently now and Harry just smiled around him and pushed Louis further down into the mattress.

“Harry – I – shit.”

Harry tried to take it all as Louis came down his throat, but he had to pull off, come dripping down his chin in the dirtiest way, but Louis was too gone to notice so Harry wiped it with the back of his hand before crawling up Louis’ body and fusing their lips together. It was wet and sloppy and more than a little dirty because Harry knew Louis had to taste himself on Harry’s tongue and something about that made Harry push his tongue in a bit further and with the way Louis was moaning beneath him, he knew he didn’t object. He settled on his back and pulled Louis up against him, smiling when he felt Louis tuck his head up under Harry’s chin. Absently, he let his fingers trail along Louis’ back, watching the way he’d shiver.

“Next time, you’re getting naked, too,” Louis said against Harry’s neck.

He smiled and pressed a kiss to Louis’ head. “Whatever you want, Lou.”

They were quiet for a bit, the only sounds their even breathing and Harry couldn’t picture a better moment. Louis simply felt right snuggled up against him, soft and small and boney in all the right places that somehow fit perfectly with his gangly over sized limbs. It shouldn’t be this easy, falling for someone and it scared him sometimes because he was falling hard and fast and that usually ended abruptly with a lot of pain in the end. When he felt Louis’ lips against his neck, he pushed those thoughts aside and just pulled Louis even closer.

 

He made his way back to Liam’s because he had to open the bakery in the morning and Zayn had yelled something about not being able to spend the night in the pub and how he’d not have them shagging all night either. Of course, it’d taken them a bit to say a proper goodbye, and Louis pouted because Harry managed to keep all his clothes on, something Liam wouldn’t believe because Harry was basically always naked.

“Good thing you didn’t go to yours,” Liam said as Harry closed the door behind him. “Gemma’d kill you.”

“Bloody hell.”

Harry turned to Niall just in time to see his wide-eyed expression, which was rather amusing, even if it was aimed at him.

“What?” Harry asked, alarmed by the boy’s reaction.

“Did you not catch a glimpse of yourself then?” Liam asked.

“What?” Harry repeated as he moved to the bathroom to have a look at himself in the mirror.

His mouth formed an ‘o’ as he sucked in a quick breath because it was amazing, but it was also huge and he was going to murder Louis for it later. He brought his fingers up to trace along it gently, biting his lower lip as his eyes fluttered closed because he could imagine it was Louis’ lips against his neck again, imagine his teeth biting into the skin as he clung to Harry’s shoulders.

“He’s blushing too,” Niall called back to Liam.

“Shut it, you.”

He couldn’t stop grinning though so it didn’t really phase Niall at all, he just shrugged and wandered back into the living room.

“We drove Zayn out of the flat,” Harry said conversationally. He watched Liam’s face carefully, saw the little smile that was tugging his lips, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. “Yeah, he answered the door shirtless when I showed up though. Who the bloody fuck does that?”

“Other than you?” Liam asked, eyes twinkling.

Harry shrugged because it was true; he usually was the one mostly or entirely naked.

“Gotta tell you, mate,” Harry said as he walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on. “You’ve got excellent taste in men though. Your, whatever he is, has got a set of abs on him.”

“Why are you looking at his abs?” Niall asked around a mouthful of cake leftover from yesterday.

“They were right there, weren’t they. When he opened the door, right, his nipples were just there because he wasn’t wearing anything but his pants.”

Harry grinned at Niall when Liam groaned and threw a hand across his face dramatically.

“Is there anything you _didn’t_ see of Zayn?”

Harry grinned and felt a bit like it was one of Louis’ grins, which only made him smile bigger. “Well, not me, no. But, Louis yelled something about boundaries and wanking and what not.”

“Bloody hell,” Liam mumbled, but Harry could see the red on the tips of his ears and knew he was blushing like mad.

 

“Drinking alone again, Harry?” Simon asked as he poured another pint.

Harry looked up, blinking his eyes slowly. “Selections tonight.”

“I know that, but I thought one of your mates would be here with you.”

“Haven’t got any not wrapped up in a firm. And I’m bloody Switzerland, so I sit on my arse and drink beers alone like a tosser on selection night. Let everyone else go out and get pissed – either cause they’re happy, or cause they’re not. Some are even pissed before it starts.”

“He is Irish.”

Harry laughed and it was unexpected, but so was Simon’s dry wit. Niall probably was already six pints in, and the selection was still a good half hour off. If he weren’t so damn nervous about the whole thing then he wouldn’t mind being on his own at the bar because he did have friends and a – Louis. He smiled thinking about Louis, he’d been so nervous earlier, so twitchy. It’d been hard to keep him still, to keep him from just mindlessly pacing the carpet so Harry had decided on a course of action guaranteed to distract him and two blow job later, Louis had finally settled down enough to watch stupid reality shows on the telly. He could feel himself flush, remembering the way Louis looked, eyes blown, hair a mess, Harry’s come on his chest.

He did not spend the next half hour looking at the clock, watching the way the hands moved slowly, so slowly Harry was nearly convinced they’d been going in reverse just to annoy him. Nor did he keep looking down at his mobile waiting for a text from Liam or Niall or Louis even though he knew there was nothing to say and they were all as nervous as he was. Mostly though, he was not sad to be sat alone waiting. Simon, bless him, had tried to engage him in some sort of conversation, but Harry’s monosyllabic responses proved too much for Simon who muttered something about bloody firms before going back to washing out pint glasses and leaving Harry to his thoughts.

Simon didn’t have any tellys in his pub, for the same reason he didn’t have darts or pool – it wasn’t _classy_. It’s also part of why he’d started coming, when matches became too much, when Niall wouldn’t shut up about some new footballer or when Liam was just too obsessive about the next match. At first, he’d just leave the flat, go for a walk, but then one night it started pouring, and he’d left his umbrella inside, so he’d ducked into the first building that was open and Simon’d given him some snarky comment about drowning puppies and he’d started coming in on his own.

“It’s bad news,” Simon said as he came round the font of the bar, eyes soft, but without pity.

At first, Harry just nodded, the words not registering. Slowly, things started to register. It began with the cheers of the nearby pubs, everyone excited about the news. Then he could feel Simon’s hand on his shoulder, a warm weight that seemed to be the only thing keeping him grounded because there was a bit of a hollow ringing in his ears. It’d been the thing he had feared the most because it was an impossible situation and no one won.

“Bugger.”

He looked up when Simon’s hand disappeared from his shoulder. Simon was behind the bar, pouring Harry a double of top shelf Scotch. Harry smiled, but it was weak and felt fake even to himself. He took the glass, swirled it around a bit, watching the way the light reflected off the amber liquid.

“Cheers,” Harry said, a bitter smile on his face.

Simon inclined his head. Harry took a sip, felt the drink burn down the back of his throat, but it felt good, it was distracting, it was warm. He remembered so many nights like this, the excitement of watching the numbers being pulled, knowing it might just be your year. The lucky ones who were able to have their teams matched, their firms able to uphold the tradition, the rivalry – make their name. After the announcement, he’d walk the streets of Leeds, arms linked with Liam and Niall screaming the words to “Marching On Together” at the top of their lungs, joined by others who were as drunk as them. He could hear the words now.

“’Everyday, we’re all gonna say,’” Harry whispered. “’We love you Leeds, Leeds, Leeds.’”

He downed the rest of the whiskey, feeling a bit bad for gulping top shelf, but he knew Simon would understand.

“’They’re the greatest in the land.’”

Harry shook his head, the familiar voice more soothing than it had any right to be right now. Louis’ hands were warm where they rested on his hips.

“Words like that are dangerous tonight,” Harry said without turning to face Louis.

“Don’t care,” Louis whispered against Harry’s neck.

He smiled a bit, loving Louis’ recklessness a bit more than he should. It was stupid of him to have come here, dangerous on a night like tonight because people around here knew who Louis was, knew he was part of Zayn’s firm, important enough to be a useful person to catch unawares. He wanted to be flattered by Louis’ attention, by him showing up here to be with Harry, but he couldn’t quite get there because he was a little angry that Louis would be that foolish, would risk it tonight.

“Why are you here?” The words held an accusation he hadn’t intended.

“Wanted to see you.”

Harry cringed at the bite to Louis’ tone, the underlying hurt. It was fair though because it wasn’t exactly a welcoming response from Harry. He turned to face Louis, noted the way his eyes weren’t quite as sparkly as they had been, as though someone had snuffed out the light that seemed to never dim. His shoulders were tight, up closer to his ears than they normally were. He wrapped his arms around Louis and snuggled up against his stomach, soaking up Louis’ warmth because even if he shouldn’t be here, he was and Harry was going to take advantage of it. When Louis’ fingers sunk into his hair, Harry sighed deeply because for that moment he could allow himself to pretend everything would be okay. He could forget they were still on opposite sides because tonight Harry wasn’t neutral, not really because the two people who meant the most to him in the world were going to square off against each other and beat the shit out of each other because of some stupid tradition, because of pride.

A loud crash had them pull apart, Harry blinked up at Louis tiredly. The riots were starting a bit early, not that Harry was surprised. People had been waiting for this particular match for years. It wasn’t just the firms that wanted it, the normal folks had their own pride and they’d drink and sing songs and watch the match, shouting profanities at the opposing team while silently rooting on the firm – too neat to get their own hands bloody. He didn’t fault them for it, not really because it’s just how things were, how they’d always been. And before he’d been old enough to join in, to get into the scraps himself, he’d been one of them. Watching from the outside as groups of lads came together in a clash of fists and shouts, never worrying about being seen, about coppers coming round to tell them to all piss off. It was a powerful feeling, like you owned the world and people knew who you were, knew your name, knew you were someone important even though you knew you really weren’t.

“Seems the city’s starting early tonight,” Simon said as he came round the counter, flannel thrown over his shoulder.

Harry and Louis just looked at each other because there was nothing to say to that. It was final, both locked into their positions and unsure of how things would move forward because it wasn’t going to be the same and neither was going to change.

“You boys should stay here tonight,” Simon said as he looked at Harry. “You know where the spare room is upstairs. No sense in you lads getting the piss kicked out of you because of some bloody match.”

“There’s no way you’d make it back to Bradford without getting in a scrap and you’re – ”

“Outnumbered – like I could forget,” Louis finished for him, a wry smile on his lips.

“Louis – ”

Louis turned away from Harry with a small shake of his head. Harry wanted to reach for him, wanted to pull him back into his arms and whisper apologies and nonsense and anything else he could think of that would make Louis forgive him. They both knew the dangers of their situation and it was a horrible thing for Harry to point out, to feel the need to say it aloud, to assume Louis didn’t know. It was too late to take it back though and even Simon was giving him a _look_ and fuck it was already screwed up.

He heard Louis head upstairs and dropped his head into his hands.

“I’m going to lock up,” Simon said. “Don’t let him alone too long, Harry.”

Harry nodded, feeling a bit numb. It was just everything happened so fast – Leeds and Bradford – in a match, and Louis had come here to see Harry because he’d wanted to see him. Then Harry’d been a prat and ruined everything. He waved when Simon left, the door closing with a finality he didn’t like. Outside he could still hear the people, hear the songs, the words forever imprinted in his brain. They all seemed so happy, so excited and Harry suddenly hated them for it.

He pushed off the stood and shuffled behind the bar to make tea, needing to do something to occupy himself, hoping that holding a try of tea when he went upstairs would somehow make everything better, a peace offering of sorts. Simon’s taste in tea was shite and Harry wrinkled his nose, but selected the lesser of the tea grievances, hoping it would be enough. He climbed the steps slowly, using the tea as an excuse, ignored the way he was nervous about seeing Louis, figuring out his mood, how to fix it.

The only light in the room was from the small bedside lamp, causing the shadows to highlight the angles of Louis’ face, making him look simultaneously more beautiful and more intimidating than ever. Harry sucked in a breath, causing Louis to look up and their eyes locked for a second before Louis looked away, but it was long enough for Harry to see the tired, defeated look. Carefully, he set the tray down on the bedside table, which coincidentally put him directly in front of Louis. He’d sat himself on the side of the bed, one shoe off, forgotten on the floor as though Louis had lost track of what he was doing.

Harry held the mug in front of him like a shield, like an offering and his voice was soft, tentative when he asked. “Cuppa?”

Wordlessly, Louis took it the cup, carefully not letting their fingers brush against each other. Harry bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from saying anything else stupid, but it hurt.

Louis grimaced after taking a sip of the tea. “This tastes like shite.”

Harry laughed. “Simon has piss poor taste in tea, doesn’t understand why his pub should have it. Didn’t stock it for a while, but people kept asking for it, so he brought it back. I think he gets the worst tasting stuff he can find in the hopes that people will quit asking him for it.”

Louis looked up at him, a small smile on his face, some of the twinkle back in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry stammered.

Louis set the mug down on the tray and met Harry’s gaze. He didn’t breathe as Louis just continued to stare at him. It was hard not to fidget, and Harry pulled his hair down over his eyes but froze when he felt Louis’ fingers pushing it back.

“Me too.”

It was barely a whisper and if Harry hadn’t been holding his breath, he might not have heard it, but he did and it made it easier to breathe. He felt himself relax, the tightness in his shoulders ebbing just a bit as Louis fingers continued to comb through his hair. It took him a minute to notice Louis had stood up and Harry blinked at him through his lashes, almost afraid of what he’d see in Louis’ eyes. They were soft though, and Harry was hoping he wasn’t imagining the fondness reflected back at him.

Harry put his hands on Louis’ hips, silently begging him not to break away; he didn’t, Louis bent his head forward so their foreheads were touching. Neither said anything, they just stared at each other, breathing the same air. When Louis’ hands wrapped around him, tugging him just the slightest bit closer Harry smiled and tightened his hands against Louis’ hips, feeling him solid beneath his fingers. Gently, he pressed their lips together, not wanting to break the peaceful spell that had fallen over them, but needing more of Louis, always more.

“Stay with me?” Louis asked, his lips sliding against Harry’s as he formed the words.

Harry nodded, not trusting his voice. Louis’ smile soft and private, the one Harry somehow just knew was his and his alone. He brought his hand up to cup Louis’ face, thumb rubbing against the slight stubble on his jawline, smiling in return when Louis nuzzled into the touch. He felt Louis’ fingers graze the skin underneath his shirt, shivered when Louis tugged the material over Harry’s head. He felt Louis’ eyes on him, watched him trace his body with them. Harry returned the favor, thumbs stroking the skin of his belly, marveling at how soft it was, before pulling the t-shirt over his head, throwing it carelessly to the ground.

Gently, Harry pushed against Louis’ chest until he sat down on the edge of the bed, feet dangling over the edge. Harry knelt down and ran his fingers along the skin above Louis ankles, along the top of his Toms.

“Don’t you ever wear socks?”

Louis chuckled, but it turned into a hiss when Harry pressed his mouth to the skin, tongue moving along his Achilles tendon. Harry moved his lips as he slid the Toms off, nose moving along the back of Louis’ calf. He moved to the other foot and laughed against the skin because Louis had only been wearing one shoe when he’d come in and it was so perfectly _Louis_. He moved up Louis’ body, slotting their mouths together. Harry figured he could stay like this forever, even if the way his hands where braced on the bed was becoming harder to hold. Then Louis’ hands were on his trousers, fumbling a bit with the button and Harry pulled back enough to help Louis pull them down, toeing off his shoes in the process. He pulled Louis to his feet, bringing their bodies into contact, hissing at the skin contact as his chest pressed warmly against Louis’. He quickly undid the button on Louis’ jeans and steadied him while he stepped out of them.

“Socks just get in the way, Hazza,” Louis whispered against his ear.

Harry smiled and bent over to pull them off, hearing Louis slide into bed behind him. It was moments like this when Harry forgot he hadn’t known Louis for his whole life because they just moved together, around each other, with each other as though they’d been doing forever. He felt Louis fingers drawing absent patterns on his back and slowed his movements, making himself take longer than necessary to remove his socks and he felt Louis’ hand stutter a bit as he laughed, clearly knowing what Harry was doing.

“Get your arse up here, Harold,” Louis ordered. “I demand snuggles.”

Harry laughed and tugged his socks off, throwing them to land with the rest of their abandoned clothes. He crawled into the bed, settling himself before he tugged Louis into his arms, feeling Louis tuck his head up under his chin, twining their fingers against Louis’ stomach.

“I won’t lose you,” Harry whispered.

Louis brought their clasped hands up to his mouth and pressed a kiss into Harry’s knuckles. “I won’t let go.”

 

“If you don’t quit checking your bloody mobile every thirty seconds, I’m going to throw it in the next bin I see,” Gemma snapped.

Harry glanced up, eyes wide. He’d thought it would be a good idea, going with Gemma into Manchester for the day, getting out of town for the match. Maybe, not though, in spite of what his mother and sister had told him. He couldn’t keep himself from wanting to look at his mobile, hoping and dreading he’d find a text from Louis or Liam. It’s not like this was the first match he’d not been in town for since he stepped back from the firm, but it was worse because he had so many more people to worry about this time.

“It’s not like you’re being a good distraction, then is it?” Harry snapped back, almost regretting it.

She looked at him with sympathy in her eyes and Harry felt bad then because she was trying.

“I’m sorry, look, we’ll go into the next shop, yeah? Check out what River Island has, you like that shop. I’ll be – less useless this time, okay?”

With a nod, she hooked her arm with Harry and he breathed a bit easier. Luckily, the Arndale wasn’t horribly busy, one of the few gifts of match day. They were able to take over a section of the fitting rooms, Harry charming the assistant into letting him wait with Gemma. His mobile was out, fingers poised over the letters before he checked himself and slid it back into his pocket; he could tell Louis about it in person. That way he’d get to see the smile on his face, hear him call himself _more_ charming and not upset Gemma.

“Respectable enough you think?” Gemma asked as she came out in a slate grey suit.

“I’d hire you.”

“You’re biased.”

Harry shrugged because it was true.

“You’re being useless again.”

Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you want me to say, Gem? You look fabulous and they’d be stupid to not keep you around forever.”

That brought a smile to her face and she pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s cheek. “You’re alright for a brother.”

“You’re the best, Gem. You know that.”

“Thinking about him, then?”

“Course I am – both of them. I – I don’t know, you know?”

“A bit, yeah. You’re worried, right? Like you don’t know what’s going on, and that’s a lot to like deal with, but they’ll be fine. Neither of them actually wants to like kill the other. Couple black eyes, a bruise or two – you know how they are.”

Harry nodded, wishing Gemma’s words were as reassuring as she intended them. He knew all too well how these things went. How things went wrong. How one wrong move meant someone died, or got hurt worse, or just something. There was no way for her to understand how much more volatile this match was, this pairing up of two firms who’d been bitter rivals since before Harry’d even joined the firm. Sure, the individuals might not have any sort of personal animosity, but on match day, that was irrelevant. He remembered all too well the way his blood would course through his veins, how the only sound he could hear was the beating of his heart as he bounced on the balls of his feet, waiting for the rush of the first hit, the first time his fist would connect with someone, the pain shooting up his arm the first time. Harry shook his head because yeah, he knew exactly what today would be like and that was piss poor comfort to him.

“We could get you some stuff too,” Gemma offered as she plopped down next to him on the bench.

He smiled up at her. There were days, like today, like this moment, where Harry wasn’t sure what he’d do without a sister to look after him, to smile at him and allow him to pretend everything was going to work out just fine in the end.

“Come on, you’re the one with the posh job now. Let’s get you something fancy, something special. Right? What’s that shop you’ve been going on about?”

“Republic? No, Haz, it’s fine. I’ll just pop into New Look, yeah. It’ll be fine.”

“No, don’t be stupid, we’re going to get you something proper. Maybe even some shoes, yeah?”

“You’re a bad influence on me,” Gemma said, her smile finally reaching her eyes.

“Someone’s gotta make the rent,” Harry added, cheeky smile on his face. “My job at the bakery’s hardly enough to cover a couple pints down the pub.”

“Wouldn’t want to be remiss now would I? Gotta let you continue to live in the manner in which you’ve become accustomed.”

Harry laughed at her attempt at a posh accent, the affectation enough to get some rather pointed looks from the woman working the fitting room. Harry just made a rude gesture to her, hoping she’d take the hint and piss off. He wasn’t going to let her upset the mood.

Hours later, Harry was sat on the train, face pressed to the window as he watched the rain fall against the Plexiglas. They’d been successful, managing to find half a dozen respectable outfits for Gemma, including a pair of shoes Harry’d insisted he buy for her. In return, she’d forced him to go into a couple of shops for himself and he couldn’t resist the urge to buy himself a new pair of skinny jeans, laughing at himself when Gemma nearly fell out of the chair from laughing at the noises he made when he tried to wiggle into them. He’d also found a pair of braces for Louis, they’d make his eyes sparkle. It was the braces he had in his hands now, the stretchy material coarse against his fingers, where he was rubbing it absently. Louis was strong, he was a good scrapper and he’d be fine. He had to be fine.

“Hey,” Gemma said in a soft whisper, knocking her shoulder gently against his. “Wanna, I don’t know, talk or something? You know you’ve not told me a single thing about the bloke in your life.”

“Not true. You know his name, know what he does, know he’s Zayn’s cousin. You know loads.”

She snorted a bit, and Harry laughed, earning him a light punch to the shoulder.

“He’s perfect.”

“Aw.”

“Don’t take the piss. He – he’s just, well, he’s completely mental, right? Like we’ve barely met and he’s naming Simon’s fucking stuffed pigeon isn’t he? Then he’s having a birthday for it, and he just smiles and winks at me like he knows how cheeky and perfect he is. I never stood a chance, Gem.”

“I’m happy for you, you know that right?”

Harry blushed, but nodded. They laughed and joked as they walked home from the train station, packages swinging between them. He missed this, just being with his sister, not worrying about – everything. It was a brilliant idea, and he’d have to do more than buy her a pair of shoes to make up for it. He’d get Louis in on it, come up with something completely mad, but fantastic.

Niall was waiting outside their building, his left eye swollen shut, right side of his face covered in dark purple bruises, made worse by the harsh streetlight. Gemma took Harry’s bags from his now numb fingers and went inside quietly, a sympathetic look on her face before she turned away to open the door. Harry looked at Niall expectantly.

“It’s – well, it went to shite, Harry. Zayn, he, he got stabbed and Louis, he’s convinced it was Liam that done it, but well, see, I – I don’t know, I didn’t see. He was there, right, like, near Zayn when it happened, but he wouldn’t – why would he have a knife? He fancies Zayn, like we take the piss, but he fancies him. Why would he – just, and it’s bad. Zayn’s in hospital.”

“Where’s Liam?” It was the only thing he can manage because he was fairly certain he wasn’t not properly breathing, nothing but static in his ears.

“Can’t find him – Harry, I looked, but I knew you’d be back soon, right? So, we can go find him, yeah?”

Harry nodded, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do and they needed to find Liam – soon.

“Louis – he’ll, he’ll kill him,” Harry choked the words out. He fumbled for his mobile, pulled it out and typed a message to Louis, begging him to wait, to not kill Liam. It was mostly a useless gesture, but maybe it would buy him enough time to find Liam.

“Text someone – figure out where the hell they are!”

Niall nodded and pulled out his mobile, typing messages quickly. Harry tried not to panic, he forced himself to breathe, to keep his mind clear because that’s the only way he’d be able to find Louis, to find Liam.

“Hawksworth,” Niall said a few minutes later.

“Christ.”

“I’ll call a taxi, we’ll get there faster.”

“It’ll still take like fifteen minutes, Niall.”

“I know.”

“Fuck, I know – sorry, just call yeah?”

Niall nodded, mobile up to his ear. They rode out to Hawksworth in tense silence, barely making eye contact, lost to their own thoughts. Harry just wanted to be in time to stop it, to keep Louis from killing Liam. He wanted to be angry about it, wanted to blame someone, to make some sort of sense of it, but the couldn’t. A few years back, a couple of kids stabbed four people, one of them nearly died. The local papers, fueled by angry locals, blamed the firm, called it ‘more hooligan gang violence’, but it wasn’t. It was a couple of kids who thought they were tough. It’d been one of the reasons Liam had decided to ban knives in the firm. He didn’t want that type of violence, never had a stomach for it and Harry, and most of the other lads, had respected him for it.

Harry paid the driver as they pulled to a stop. He knew where they’d be and he didn’t have to tell Niall to run, they were both sprinting across the ground towards Butcher Hill Bridge. It was secluded enough in the rougher part of Leeds, the part nobody spoke about, especially after the stabbing, but it used to be the textile area, never posh, but formerly industrial. The bridge was one of the oldest routes along the old Yorkshire trade routes.

“Fuck!” Harry skidded to a stop; the river was flooding over the bank due to the recent rains.

“Low Mill – close enough, reckon?”

Harry nodded. It made sense. Council had demolished the old Low Mill, but they foundation had been left, and been taken over by locals who didn’t want their activities spotted. It wasn’t much of a secret though, it was a community secret – the thing everyone knows, but they don’t admit to knowing. It wouldn’t be as flooded because it was conduit to service the Low Mill. The whole place was properly creepy; Harry and Liam had spent a night under the concrete floor, in the beck, when they were first in secondary school. It’d been a stupid dare from one of Niall’s mates, but they’d looked at each other and shrugged. They didn’t get a wink of sleep the whole night, wrapped up in sleeping bags with huge torches and a carafe of tea. Although, he wouldn’t deny they both walked a bit taller the following weeks. Of course, he’d been grounded so the strutting was dampened a bit, but it was a worthy price to pay.

There was shouting as they drew closer which caused Harry to nearly sag with relief because if they were still shouting, then no one had been stabbed, or worse. Things tended to get eerily quiet after something like that.

“No knives – proper scrapping – isn’t that what you said, Payne?” Louis shouted.

Harry stood frozen as he saw Louis’ arm extended towards where Liam was on his knees at the edge of the beck. Louis, his Louis, mad, brash Louis, had a gun trained on Liam’s head. He blinked and then he was running, stumbling over the rock debris, but not losing any momentum as he made his way to Liam because he couldn’t let him die. Not now, not like this, not over something that couldn’t possibly have happened. He could see Liam’s eyes now, knew the instant he noticed Harry’s presence, the way his eyes widened and he shook his head as though it was going to change Harry’s mind. All he could see was Liam on his knees, a gun pointed at his head; nothing else mattered. He heard struggle behind him, heard Niall shout something indistinct. Then nothing. He was frozen again.

Warm liquid trickled down his neck, and he could feel the knife at his throat, feel the arm clamped around his chest like a vice. He sucked in a breath.

“Liam!”

“What’d I tell you, Lou?” the man with the knife to his throat said. “He’s with them, isn’t he? Comes running out here, looking to put his nose in where it don’t belong no more. He’s still one of them.”

Harry’s cheeks were wet with tears as he struggled against the arm holding him, even though he could feel the knife press dangerously against his skin, he didn’t care. He had to get to Liam, had to put himself between Liam and the threat because they were best mates, because he’d always have Liam’s back.

“Let him go.” Louis’ voice was nearly unrecognizable.

For a second, Harry looked over at him, noted the way his eyes were wide with surprise, but his arm was still steady, still pointed at Liam. He could see the fear in Louis’ eyes, behind the rage, behind the knowledge that Liam had stabbed Zayn. It was easy to forgive him, to see that he’d do the same thing, were they’re positions reversed. Still, Liam was on his knees with a gun to his head and Harry was fairly certain the knife to his throat could kill him.

“You’ve got to be joking. You’re a tosser, Tommo. I’m not letting him just go.”

“Harry, what the hell?” Liam called.

Harry wanted to move forward, but he could feel the blood still dripping down his neck and he wasn’t sure how bad the cut was, couldn’t risk it.

“Liam – I – ”

“HARRY!”

 

Cotton, that’s what it felt like. Like the only thing in his head was one massive cotton. Harry groaned and wiped a hand over his face, trying to make the sort of numb tingling sensation, like the one when your foot falls asleep, to leave. His eyes blinked open slowly, taking in the harsh lights from the fluorescents above him. Sitting next to him, curled up into the chair, Liam was sleeping, but there were still bruises on his face, a plaster on his arm. Harry smiled a bit because he looked safe, looked okay – Liam was okay. Harry’d arrived on time, he’d kept Louis from shooting Liam. He put a hand to his neck, felt the gauze there and settled back against the pillows, wondering if they’d give him a bit more painkiller now that he was awake enough to be aware of the throbbing in his throat that wasn’t his pulse.

“I didn’t stab him,” Liam whispered.

Harry turned his head towards Liam, looked at him, at the way he was begging Harry to believe him. Before he thought about it, Harry moved to get from the bed, wincing when he pulled on the IV that was stuck in his arm. Liam was out of his seat in an instant, clucking at Harry just like his mum, gently pushing him back into the bed.

“Don’t do that, Hazza.”

Harry grabbed Liam’s arm, forcing the other boy to meet his eyes. “I know you didn’t stab him.”

“But Louis – ”

“He’ll come round to it. Stabbing someone you fancy isn’t exactly clever courtship, right? It’ll be okay, Liam. Promise.”

Of course, it wasn’t something Harry could promise and they both knew it, but Liam was gracious enough to keep his mouth shut. Honestly, he had no idea if Louis would ever come to that conclusion on his own.

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault, mate,” Harry replied. “I’m the one who came dashing to the rescue. Didn’t think it through all the way. No worries.”

“If – if you’d – ”

“Stop. I didn’t.”

Liam bit his lip but nodded. They sat in silence for a minute. Harry closed his eyes, willing the throbbing to subside just a bit. Maybe he should ring a nurse.

“Did I say thanks?”

Harry looked over at Liam, smiled at the small grin on Liam’s face, the way his eyes were soft with the affection of two people who’d known each other forever.

“No need, mate.”

“Thanks anyway, yeah?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“He’s awake!” Niall called as he came dashing into the room. “Harry!”

Harry smiled and gave Niall a small wave. “Don’t think you were talking bout me, mate.”

“No, erm, you’re awake, too, though. Brilliant. But, um, Zayn…he’s awake.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Louis?”

“Haven’t seen him round.”

He didn’t like the pain in his stomach, the gripping fear. But, maybe Louis couldn’t be round hospital. Some people were like that, couldn’t handle the location, the sick people. Until he knew otherwise, that’s why Louis wasn’t round. Even if it was a lie, at least Harry could breathe. He pressed the call button, hoping he could get the IV out, maybe get some Nurofen.

“Did he see it?” Liam asked Niall.

“Don’t know, really. Didn’t go in the room, just noticed he was sitting up, chatting with one of the nurses.”

“See what?” Harry asked.

Liam blushed and ducked his head, causing Harry to hide his laugh behind his hand. He didn’t want to embarrass Liam, not now, but it was still one of the cutest things he’d ever seen.

“My necklace, the pendant one. Wanted him to know, know I didn’t – that I was – ”

Harry reached out, tangled his fingers with Liam’s and gave a quick squeeze. “I’m sure he does.”

The nurse came in and shooed the boys out, Niall promising he’d get Liam something to eat. Harry smiled.

“I can get this IV out now, love. Now you’re awake and can take in your own fluids.”

Harry nodded at the nurse, eager to have mobility back. He wanted to get out of here, go find Louis, go and fix everything before Louis had a chance to talk himself out of whatever it was he and Harry had started.

“There now,” she said as she was putting a cotton over where the IV had been. “How’s that then?”

 “Brilliant!” Harry gave her his most dazzling smile. “Any chance I can use the toilet?”

“Course you can love. Down the hall a bit, then to the left.”

“Cheers.”

“I’ll send the doctor round in a few minutes then, have you all checked out.”

Harry gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, watching the way she blushed as she scurried out the door. Slowly, he stood from the bed and looked around for his clothes. He didn’t fancy wandering round the ward with his arse hanging out for all to see. Pulling them on quickly, he asked the first person he saw what room Zayn was in and nodded his thanks as he walked down the corridor. He didn’t exactly know why he was going to see him, but he needed to – needed to make sure he was alright because then Louis would be alright.

Zayn was laying in the bed, his skin pale, cheeks pulled against the bones in his face. He looked somehow smaller, fragile – breakable in a way Harry’d never seen. It wasn’t right, he was intruding. He’d just turned to leave when Zayn’s voice startled him.

“Harry.”

“Hiya, how – alright?”

Zayn nodded and waved Harry inside. Liam’s pendant was in Zayn’s hand; Zayn rubbing the face of it between his thumb and forefingers. Harry smiled.

“Wasn’t Liam that stabbed me.”

Harry nodded, unable to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“He tried to stop him, like, got right up there in the middle of it. Nearly took the knife himself. Think that’s why mine was so bad, like I kept trying to keep him away from it, but Max was determined.”

Harry’s fingers curled into a fist, jaw tight. _Max_.

“Louis knows – now, like, knows it wasn’t Liam, but Harry, I’m all Louis has, like _all_ he’s got, right?”

Harry still couldn’t speak, words stuck in his throat.

“Niall told me you were awake,” Liam mumbled from where he was fidgeting in the doorway.

Harry thought Zayn wanted to say more, but he saw how his eyes lit up a bit at the sight of Liam, how he was almost smiling. Whatever it was, it could wait. This was more important. Neither of them said anything, just looked at each other, Liam growing more nervous under Zayn’s gaze. It was just cute and later, much later, Harry’d make sure Liam never forgot, but for now, he just let them enjoy the moment. It was his cue to kindly fuck off and with a hand to Liam’s shoulder, Harry gave them both a smile, silently wishing them the best of luck, before slipping out of the room.

The doctor checked him out, giving him strict instructions that Harry nodded his agreement to, hoping they’d written them down because he wasn’t paying any attention. Too many other things for him to spend his mental energies on, like how he was going to fix it. The moment Zayn’s mentioned _Max_ Harry knew his neutrality, his being out was well and truly over.

“Niall,” Harry called as he walked into the cafeteria, smiling at the way Niall’s plate was piled high with the most random assortment of food Harry’d ever seen.

“No Nandos,” Niall said with a pout.

Harry laughed, but sobered up quickly.

“Where’s Max?”

“Harry – ”

“Where?”

 

It was dark when they went back to hospital. Niall had a rucksack slung over his shoulder, a change of clothes and toothbrush for Liam. They both knew he wasn’t going to leave the building with Zayn still there. Harry kept clenching and unclenching his fist, feeling the way his skin would pull tight over his swollen knuckles. It wasn’t something Harry allowed himself to think about often, but the familiar throb was comforting, nice even. He’d missed it.

They found Liam hovering outside Zayn’s room, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched in on himself. He looked up when he saw them, eyes going wide as he took in there more disheveled appearance. The look transformed into one of concern, then annoyance – and Harry found himself smiling because there were still things that would always remain the same. Liam would always find a way to be bothered by Niall and Harry getting into trouble that he was not a part of, and sometimes trouble he was a part of.

“Why are you outside the room? Zayn’s still inside, isn’t he?” Niall asked.

“Course.”

“Then why are you out here? Shouldn’t you be in there?”

“Louis – I don’t want him to – ”

Harry nodded. He understood not wanting to be alone in a room with the bloke who’d held a gun to your head a few hours previously. Although, he sort of thought hovering outside the room was just as bad, and not all that safer.

“What’s this?” Liam pulled Harry’s hand out, brushing his thumb over the splits on his knuckles.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t be stupid, Harry. What the bloody hell happened?”

Harry swallowed and looked up at Niall who shrugged because there wasn’t any point in not telling him. He’d figure it out, or someone else would tell him – small community when it wanted to be. He met Liam’s eyes.

“Went after Max.”

Liam’s eyes hardened and his jaw tightened in that Liam way of his. The one that showed Harry how much restraint Liam was using, because Liam never just blurted the first thing that came to his mind, no, that wasn’t his style. He would make this face, then wait for his brain to sort out exactly what he wanted to say. Mostly, he’d seen it directed at other people and it was properly intimidating, but Harry wasn’t sorry.

Finally, Liam nodded, eyes carefully neutral. “You alright?”

Harry nodded, knowing he’d gotten off easy tonight because Liam was worried about Zayn and about Harry and it was just not important to have it out now in the corridor of hospital, but the pointed look Liam gave him before turning to Niall told Harry there’d be discussion later, proper arse chewing. It was fine though because it was done and it had been satisfying because Zayn, beautiful Zayn who was probably as gone on Liam as he Liam was on him had  been stabbed, because Louis had lost his shit and because Liam had been on his knees, a gun pointed to his head.

“Go see him,” Harry encouraged, small smile on his face. “Ten quid says he’s wearing your necklace.”

The change was instantaneous, Liam’s whole face softened even as his cheeks flushed with a light blush. He met Harry’s eyes and there was a torrent of emotions in them, Harry figured the same was reflected in his so he just nodded towards the door. Liam nodded, as though convincing himself that Harry was right. He tugged on the bottom of his jacket and walked into the room, Harry following behind.

The tension ricocheted when Louis’ eyes flashed up to Liam and Louis was half out of his chair before Zayn was able to get his arm out to restrain him. Liam froze by the door, and Harry wanted to hit something again.

“What the bloody fuck do you want?”

“Louis – ”

Louis looked at Zayn, but didn’t move to sit back down.

“Let them in, Louis.”

Harry gave Liam’s back a little push, earning him a glare, but he moved further into the room. Louis’ tracked Liam’s every movement, and Harry doubted Louis even knew he was in the room. He moved around the bed, placing himself between Liam and Zayn and Harry could see the way Liam’s shoulders dropped, knew if he could see Liam’s face there would probably be unshed tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to check on you, see how you were feeling,” Liam said to Zayn, as best he could around Louis.

“You damn well know how he’s doing! It was your fucking guys that got him stabbed wasn’t it? How the hell do you think he is, then?”

“Louis – ”

“No, Zayn. They’re the reason you’re in fucking hospital.”

“You know Liam didn’t stab me.”

“Not the point. These tossers have no business being here.”

“Louis – Harry wasn’t even there.”

Harry blinked, not sure how to process everything. He’d been lumped together with the firm, for a fight he hadn’t even been at, and Louis looked through him. Like he was a stranger, like he was the enemy – that hurt more than anything. He wanted to be angry, wanted to yell at Louis, tell him that _he_ was the one who’d pointed a fucking gun to his best mate’s head, but he couldn’t because there was something painful, something like an ending, lodged in his throat and he couldn’t swallow around it to find the words. He’d thought, back at the Mill, thought it would be okay because Louis had stopped, hadn’t pulled the trigger. He’d _seen_ Harry, actually seen him and he’d been sure it’d been Louis’ voice calling out his name in that moment before he’d passed out, but now he wasn’t sure, it could’ve been Liam or Niall because this Louis, the one looking at him now, he wasn’t the same; he wasn’t seeing Harry.

“Harry went after him,” Liam said, voice soft, but even. “When he found out about Max.”

Zayn’s eyes snapped to Harry’s and he shuffled his feet under the weight of his gaze, not knowing where to look, but unwilling to hold Zayn’s eyes. Instead, his eyes sought out Louis, but he wouldn’t look at him, and Harry knew he could feel Harry’s eyes on him, but nothing. He still wouldn’t acknowledge Harry was even in the room.

He shook his head; he was tired, his hands were finally starting to hurt and maybe he should have put ice on them earlier, but he’d get Gemma to do it later, deal with her threatening to phone home and tell mum all about it. Mostly, he just wanted to curl up on the couch, watch bad telly and pretend the last few hours had never happened. He brushed off Liam’s hand when it went to rest on his shoulder and shook his head again. Now wasn’t the time.

 

Zayn was released from the hospital two days later and for the most part, things had settled down. Harry was finally able to keep the gauze off his neck, pleased the doctors thought he’d escape with minimal scarring. He’d listened to Gemma scold him about his behavior, about his choices, about taking it seriously now because he’s got A-Levels this year. Somewhere through the middle of it, Harry’d decided to go to have Simon patch him up. It would be gruff, and he’d be equally displeased, but he’d be quiet about it and not threaten to phone Harry’s mum. It was quiet in the bakery, the whole city in a bit of a hush after everything. It got like this after matches quite often, but the firms hadn’t been the only ones involved in less festive celebrations. Loads of places had been looted, a few local pubs had shut down due to excess fighting and now everyone was recovering. Taking a breath. Harry kneaded the ball of dough roughly, hoping he didn’t ruin this batch, too or it was going to start coming out of his wages.

“Do you know what kind of cookie says ‘sorry I’m a wanker’? I didn’t, so I figured I’d best get them all,” Louis asked.

Harry looked up, mouth gaping open like an idiot, but Louis was standing there, shoulders rolled forward, fringe falling into his eyes and a giant pink pastry box in his outstretched hands. He walked round the counter automatically, not knowing quite how to react. Louis opened the lid and Harry knew his eyes were wide because he was certain Louis had indeed gone and bought out a pastry shop because the box was stuffed with cookies and cakes and tarts. He looked at Louis.

“That’s my line.” It wasn’t what he’d wanted to say, but it was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

Louis closed the lid and set the box down on the counter before shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“Imitation’s the best form of flattery?”

“We can’t keep apologizing with cookies, Louis. We’ll both get fat and ugly.”

“Good thing there’s cakes.”

“Not the point.”

“I’m sorry.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I know why you did it, you know, why you went for Liam. I forgive you – it’s, well, I’d’ve done the same. But, then you just – ”

Louis was shaking his head. “No, I’m a right bastard, alright? You, you didn’t do anything except come help Liam and that’s, you should. I knew, a bit, I think, the whole time that like Liam couldn’t have done it, right? Because those two wankers are just gone on each other, kept making mooneyes and Zayn hasn’t had the damn pendant out of his hand at all.”

“Then – ”

The rest of his sentence was swallowed by Louis lips and Harry’s hands fell to Louis’ hips automatically because they fit together. One day, he’d figure out how Louis always seemed to move without Harry noticing, but for now, he just tilted his head and allowed Louis to pour his apology into Harry’s lips, in the sweep of his tongue against his own, in the way Louis’ hands held Harry’s face. Everything that had felt off the past few days, the way things were just a bit out of place, all of it was better now with Louis pressed up against him.  

“Told you, I’m not letting go,” Louis murmured.

Harry kissed his forehead, hands sinking into his hair. “Good. I won’t let you.”

“I know.”

Louis pulled back and gently took Harry’s hands into his own. His fingers danced along the scabbed over skin on Harry’s knuckles as though he could make them go away by his touch alone. The swelling had gone away and he could move them without having a lot of pain, unless he made a fist too tight, then it would pull at the scab, sometimes bleed a little. Louis locked his eyes on Harry’s and pulled Harry’s hand up to his mouth, pressing soft, open mouthed kisses to each knuckle.

“I saw him, Max,” Louis began slowly. “Bout a day after – Zayn’d thrown me out of hospital, tired of my hovering. He was a right mess, all bruises and half-healed cuts. Wouldn’t meet my eyes either, scurried away, like a scared rabbit.”

Harry tried to keep the smile off his face because it was a mean smile, cruel and full of satisfaction. It must have shown though because Louis was smirking at him, a bit of a twinkle back in his eyes.

“You’re scary sometimes, you know?”

Harry gave a surprised laugh, biting his lip.

“You are though, hide it well behind that cheeky smile, and dimples and mess of curly hair, but you’re proper scary when motivated.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Harry rested his head against Louis shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent.

“Did you figure it out?” Harry asked a few minutes later.

“What’s that?”

“The cookie – which one says ‘sorry I’m a wanker’?”

Louis smiled. “We could try some, yeah? Figure out which one says it best?”

Harry returned the smile, leaning in to kiss Louis lightly before moving over to where they’d left the giant pastry box.

“Where’d you even find all these?” Harry asked, a smile in his voice.

“I worked quite hard, Harold. It’s no small task I’ll have you know, finding sweets to fill a box that large.”

Harry gave Louis an exaggerated nod, as though this all made perfect sense and it did for them, even if no one else would ever understand. It made it something more special, something that was just for them.

“Which one should I have?” Harry asked as he peered into the box.

Louis came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Harry, nuzzling his face against Harry’s back.

“I had them put extra frosting on the bakewells,” Louis answered.

Before Harry could reach in to take one out of the box, Louis’ hand was there, holding a tart up to his mouth. He eyed the icing warily because it was piled on top precariously high. Obediently, he opened his mouth, his eyes closing, only to have the frosting smashed into his face. Louis was laughing behind him, deep laugh that vibrated through is body and therefore into Harry. He was smiling, not that anyone could see through the frosting smeared across his face.

“Hazza, love, turn round, there’s a good lad,” Louis managed through laughter.

With a thumb, Louis reached up and swiped a glob of the frosting off Harry’s cheek. He sucked it into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and moaning around it.

“I don’t figure this counts as a proper apology, Lou.”

Louis smiled and swiped another bit of frosting onto his finger, holding it out for Harry.

“How silly of me,” he murmured.

Harry sucked the digit into his mouth, humming around it because the frosting was brilliant and he made a mental note to figure out the recipe later because he needed more of it so that he could put it on his cakes, maybe cover Louis with it, that could be fun, too. Louis’ breathing became a bit labored as Harry continued to lick the frosting from his finger, so Harry worked extra hard to move his tongue around the sensitive parts of Louis’ finger, swiping his tongue under the nail, biting down gently on the pad.

Louis pulled his finger back and moved forward, licking the frosting off Harry’s nose, his cheek, pausing to nibble along Harry’s chin, before moving his mouth to Harry’s, licking along his lower lip. Harry parted his lips, allowing Louis’ tongue to snake in, his own meeting it to taste the sweetness of the frosting. Louis’ hands moved to his hips, pressed him back against the counter, changing the angle of the kiss, making it deeper, frosting long forgotten. Harry moaned when Louis’ fingers pressed hard into his hips. When Louis rocked his hips forward, forcing delicious friction between their growing arousal, Harry broke his lips away from Louis’ with a gasp.

“Can’t do that, Lou,” Harry whispered.

“Why not?” Louis asked as he moved his hips forward again, causing Harry to moan deep in the back of his throat. “You make such pretty noises.”

“In the bakery. Can’t – can’t do it here. Someone’ll come in again. Like that lady last time, embarrassed her properly, Lou.”

Louis smirked at him, the mischievous glint back in his eyes. “She’s not the one who was blushing, Haz.”

Harry felt himself blush again as he remembered. Louis laughed, but gave one last quick kiss to Harry’s nose before moving back.

“Go on then,” Louis said with an imperious wave of his hand. “Get back at it. I’ll snog you senseless later.”

Harry smiled as he moved back round the counter, eager to get a new batch of dough in the oven. He watched Louis settle into one of the oversized chairs they kept out front in case people wanted to have a nice cup of tea with their pastry. Louis looked up and winked before looking back down at his mobile.

 

“Harold?” Louis sing-songed as he walked into Harry’s room.

He didn’t move out from under the mountain of duvet he’d created during the night, simply burrowed further into the mattress and groaned, hoping Louis would take the hint. It was too early, so Louis could either fuck off or join him, joining him sounded nice – nice and warm and snuggles until it was a decent hour of the day. The owners had finally returned to the bakery, giving Harry a much appreciated week off, with some pay for his extra duties during their holiday.

Part of him knew he should have been more surprised, but that part was currently trying to reign in his hammering heart rate because Louis had leapt onto his bed, Harry was mostly convinced his mad boyfriend was part spider monkey, and was jumping up and down, narrowly missing landing on Harry’s legs on more than on occasion. Instinctively, Harry curled in on himself even more, even if he knew he wouldn’t get anymore sleep.

“Hazza,” Louis whispered near Harry’s ear. When he’d stopped bouncing and decided to lay down next to Harry was still a mystery, but whatever, at least the bouncing had stopped. Harry wrapped his arms around Louis and used him as a human body pillow, nuzzling his face into Louis’ neck, inhaling the familiar scent. Louis poked a finger to Harry’s cheek.

“But,” Louis was still whispering, as though it were a secret. “We’re going on an adventure, curly.”

“That’s nice, Lou,” Harry mumbled, wrapping his legs around Louis, trying to keep him from squirming.

“You’re being quite boring,” Louis groused as he increased his attempts to wiggle out of Harry’s octopus-like hold.

“It’s early. Want to sleep. Adventure later.”

“Not acceptable young Harold. I’ve managed to get Zayn to lend me his car and you and I are going on a road trip.”

Harry rolled onto his back, dragging Louis to drape across his body. He ran his hand up and down Louis’ spine absently, taking a moment to let his eyes adjust to being open and awake. Louis’ eyes were serious, brow slightly furrowed and Harry could see the apprehension lurking in their blue depths. Harry brought a hand up and moved the fringe out of Louis’ face, smiling when Louis moved to follow his hand.

“Where we going then?”

Louis smiled faded slightly and he bit his bottom lip, an action that under most circumstances would lead to Harry to capture Louis’ lips with his, but not when Louis looked so damn unsure. He brought his hand back to Louis’ face, cupped his check gently, tilted his head so he could meet Louis’ gaze.

“What’s wrong, Lou?”

“Nothing,” Louis answered with a shake of his head. Harry didn’t believe him, but he didn’t want to push.

“Top secret location? If you tell me, you’ll have to kill me? Get a self-destructing message in a cassette tape or something?” Harry asked, eyes sparkling.

“Don’t be stupid, where would I play a cassette tape?”

Harry laughed. “Alright, get your arse up.”

“Oi, you’re the one who decided I’d make an acceptable pillow.”

Harry pinched Louis’ arse, laughing when he jumped out of the bed with an indignant squeak, hand rubbing the sore spot.

“Best arse round, Lou, you know that. And you’re my favorite pillow.”

“Wanker.”

Harry pulled the duvet off his body and stood to his feet, stretching his arms up over his head and feeling his back stretch and pull before he dropped his hand to scratch absently at his belly. He looked over at Louis who was strangely silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open as though he’d started to say something then stopped himself.

“What?”

“And you go on bout Zayn being half dressed – you’re completely starkers.”

Harry blushed and looked down, as though realizing for himself that he was naked. “I’d hardly answer the door like this. I do tend to sleep naked though.”

“Warn a bloke next time, Christ.”

Harry smirked as he walked closer to where Louis had placed himself near the wall. He saw the way Louis’ eyes followed his movements, the way his eyes would skitter down his body before jumping back up to meet Harry’s eyes, as though afraid to be caught looking. When he reached where Louis had conveniently backed himself into the wall, Harry grasped Louis hands and held them over his head, smirking down at Louis’ who’s eyes were a darker shade of green than they had been when he’d been so rudely woken Harry from his sleep.

“You’re staring.”

Louis licked his lips, eyes still unable to settle and Harry laughed, the sound a low rumble from his chest. The laugh seemed to break Louis out of his reverie because his eyes, still dark with lust, took a bit of a hard edge, just enough to make Harry’s dick twitch in response, anticipation curling in his stomach. Louis attacked Harry’s mouth, lips insistent against Harry’s, tongue forcing its way into Harry’s mouth, even though Harry didn’t offer any resistance, he knew Louis was taking control of the situation. Harry released Louis hands and reached for Louis’ shirt, only to have Louis pin his arms.

“Not this time, curly.”

Louis’ voice was a harsh rasp against his skin and Harry shivered, nodding as Louis continued to plunder his mouth. He pushed against Harry, forcing Harry to move forward enough for Louis to reverse their positions, pinning Harry against the wall, hands hot on his hips. Harry groaned as Louis took his time, lips trailing along his collarbones, tongue tracing the lines of his tattoos, hands a constant weight against his hips. He tried bucking his hips forward, hoping to get some sort of friction, some relief, but Louis would have none of it, biting over Harry’s nipple before soothing it with his tongue. All Harry could do was cling helplessly to Louis’ shoulders, head thrown back as his breath left his body in harsh little pants.  

“Fuck,” Harry managed when he saw Louis slink to his knees, hands still gripping Harry’s hips like a lifeline.

Heat coiled low, pulsing with anticipation as Louis smirked up at him, giving Harry a cheeky wink before licking a stripe up the underside of Harry’s dick. He was immensely grateful for the solidness of the wall behind him, of the pressure of Louis’ hands on his hips because he knew they were the only reason he was still standing. Then Louis took him in his mouth and Harry’s hips jerked forward of their own accord. Louis choked a little, gently pushing Harry’s hips further into the wall. He wanted to apologize, but his eyes were rolling into the back of his head and his hands were scrambling for purchase on the wall, higher thought wasn’t really an option at the moment. Louis’ mouth was like an inferno as he hollowed his cheeks and pulled Harry further into his mouth. Harry knew he wouldn’t last long because it was morning, and Louis was on his knees making the most delicious sounds with his mouth as his tongue continued to tease along the vein running the length of Harry’s dick.

“Lou – Lou,” Harry tried to warn him, tried to pull back, but Louis pushed him harder against the wall.

Harry shuddered through his release, his hands griping Louis’ shoulders painfully. His eyes fluttered open when he felt Louis’ body align with his, and groaned when Louis licked his lips, catching stray bits of Harry’s come with his tongue. Harry clenched a fistful of Louis’ shirt and yanked him forward, crashing their lips together, wanting to see what he tasted like on Louis’ lips. Louis returned the kiss, fingers deep in Harry’s hair, something Harry loved.

“Go on then,” Louis whispered against Harry’s lips. “Get yourself dressed. We’ve got a bit of a drive, yeah?”

Harry nodded. He leaned forward and captured Louis’ lips again, intending to keep it quick and light, but Louis clung to him, deepening the kiss. Harry pulled back for a breath and searched Louis’ eyes, wondering what was going on, why everything Louis was doing felt so conflicting. Not that he minded snogging Louis, and if that’s really how Louis wanted to spend the day, Harry would willingly oblige, but he knew better. He knew Louis was reading the questions in his eyes, saw the way his lip quirked up, watched him shake his head slightly.

“Go on, we’ll chat when you’ve got your damn clothes on, Styles.”

Harry smirked and nodded. He shuffled off to the bathroom deciding a shower would be necessary to both wake him and make him presentable for the general public. When he was washed and dressed in his newest pair of skinny jeans, because he might have done some shopping based on how Louis responded to his outfit, and a wide necked shirt, designed to show little hints of his collarbones when he moved. He smiled as he pulled is socks on, wondering if Louis would notice if Harry tried to sneak a pair onto his feet in the middle of the night and made a note to try it at some point.

He stumbled into the kitchen, still not quite as awake as he’d like. Hopefully, there’d be tea. Instead, Gemma was sitting across the table from Louis, both of them smiling and laughing as though they’d known each other for years, when in fact, Harry was mostly convinced they’d never met before this morning when Louis probably woke her up to let him into the flat. At least there was tea and he took Louis’ mug from his hand, took a sip and made a face before handing it back. He ignored the way Louis was laughing at him and poured himself a cup of decent tea before settling in next to Louis at the table. His eyes flicked up to Gemma who was eyeing him with a fond, but knowing smile and he rolled his eyes, but knew the smile was ruining the effect.

“Harold here is utter rubbish at mornings,” Louis said, voice chipper.

“Twat.”

“Language, Harry, honestly.”

Harry glared at his sister, knowing she was only scolding him because Louis was around to take advantage of his embarrassment. She and Louis were smirking at each other and Harry wanted to be bothered, but he wasn’t because it was a perfect moment. Instead, he went over to the fridge and pulled out some butter so he could start a fry-up.

“Now he’s sulking,” Gemma whispered to Louis, just loud enough for Harry to hear and he didn’t dignify it with a response, just fried his egg and bacon before sliding it onto a plate. He sat down next to Louis and began eating, trying not to smile around his fork. When Louis tried to sneak his hand over to steal a piece of bacon, Harry batted his hand away and actively ignored the way Louis pouted at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you sulk, curly,” Louis whispered against Harry’s ear.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Gemma said as she put her mug in the sink. “Have fun, boys.”

“Bye, Gem.”

Harry turned to Louis. “Going to tell me about this adventure of ours?”

Louis shook his head. “I think not, Harold. I’m quite hungry and you’re being rather selfish.”

Harry smirked. “Idiot. Quit sulking, I’ve made a lot, if you’ve not noticed.”

Louis reached round and this time Harry let him take a piece of bacon. He set the fork down and moved to the sink to do the washing up, not wanting to leave it for Gemma.

 

They’d been driving for a bit in comfortable silence, Harry content to watch the landscape fly by his window and listen to Louis sing along with whatever happened to come on the radio. He knew there was something bothering Louis, but he wouldn’t press.

When Louis’ mobile rang, Louis put it on speaker and smiled widely at Harry, as though he was in on the joke.

“Zayn!”

_“Please tell me you didn’t steal my car to take your boyfriend on a date.”_

Harry’s eyes were wide as he made wild gestures at Louis that might have been interpreted as either why would you steal his car or there’s a pack of pigeons landing on the side of the road.

“I didn’t steal it. I left a note.”

_“Lou.”_

Louis’ smile faded and Harry reached over to squeeze Louis’ hand, earning a smile in return.

“Lottie called.”

There was a measured pause and Harry could hear Zayn take a deep breath. He felt like an intruder on the conversation and moved to take his hand away, but Louis wouldn’t let him.

_“Harry with you?”_

“Yeah, he’s here next to me.”

_“Good.”_

Another pause that made Harry want to pull Louis into his arms.

_“Don’t scratch it, Lou.”_

Louis smirked at Harry. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Harry looked at Louis when he ended the call, waiting for Louis to fill in the blanks, but he was very actively looking out the window, purposefully ignoring Harry’s eyes on him. Louis’ knuckles were white where they gripped the steering wheel.  His eyes were blinking rapidly, and Harry could see the way his shoulders were too stiff for it to be comfortable, as though he was bracing against something – and it was too much.

“Pull off,” Harry said.

“What?”

“Pull off.”

For the first time since they’d settled into the car, Louis met Harry’s gaze and with an audible swallow and a nod, he eased the car off the motorway. Harry pulled his jumper over his head before climbing out of the car, waiting for Louis to join him. They leaned across the side of the car, watching the light traffic go by for a few moments before Harry hit Louis’ toe with his own.

“We’re going to see my sisters,” Louis started, eyes staring ahead.   

Harry waited, working to keep his face carefully blank.

“I’ve not seen them since I left Doncaster, so I’m not sure how they’re going to respond.” Louis looked down at his toes.     

“Lottie, she’s one of your sisters, right?”

Louis nodded.

“Then I’m sure it’ll be fine, Lou. They called you.”

“You don’t – it’s not – it was bad at the end, when I left.”

Harry bit his lip because he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what had happened and he really didn’t know if things would be okay, but he wanted to make Louis feel better, to make the tight line of his shoulder relax. Harry watched Louis’ face, watched as he tried to smile, but it fell flat. Louis held the keys out in front of him.

“I can give you directions, yeah?”

Harry nodded and took the keys. Louis returned the nod and held Harry’s gaze, looking for something. Harry stood still, not sure what Louis was trying to find, but hoping he found it because he wanted to be here, wanted to help Louis, wanted to pull him into his arms and never let go.

They drove the rest of the way to Doncaster in silence, Louis fingers tapping a nervous beat against his knee. Harry wanted to take his hand and squeeze it, but didn’t because things still felt weird, like the rules had changed and he was a step behind.

“It’s just there, on the left,” Louis said, voice small. Harry spared a glance at Louis, saw how pale his skin was, the white knuckled grip he had on the doorframe.

They sat in front of the house for long moments, the rain that had picked up about ten minutes outside Doncaster pelted the car as they sat in silence, Louis staring at the house as though it were going to swallow him alive.

“I can’t go in there, Harry,” Louis’ voice was a broken whisper that Harry almost didn’t hear even though there were only a few inches between their bodies.

Tentatively, Harry reached out and put his hand on Louis shoulder, trying not to feel a bit hurt when Louis flinched, but at least he didn’t move away. He still didn’t know what to say because there was still so much about Louis that was a mystery to him, for all the ways in which they just seemed to _fit_ together, there were other areas that left Harry floundering. 

Fortunately, Louis was opening the car door, sparing Harry the pressure of coming up with words he knew wouldn’t really mean anything. He turned the ignition off and slowly followed Louis, watching him carefully, trying to read as much of his intentions as he could, but there was a mask on Louis’ face, and Harry knew he was protecting himself from something. When they reached the door, Louis knocked quickly, looking at his hand as though it’d done the action on its own. He shuffled from foot to foot, eyes scanning up and down the street, never settling in one place for more than a few seconds, hands shoved deeply into his pockets, as though keeping them there would erase the bit where he’d knocked on the door.

His whole body locked up when a woman with ginger hair that stuck up in all sorts of directions, and a scowl etched onto her face opened the door. Harry fought down the urge to move in front of Louis and glare at the woman, maybe even demand an apology because he’d never seen Louis look small and unsure – and he never wanted to see him look that way again. Neither spoke for seconds that felt like they dragged on forever.

“Louis,” she said slowly, voice both disappointed and surprised.

“Lottie called me,” Louis answered as though he’d been asked a question, and there was a hint of an apology in his tone that made Harry grit his teeth together, even though he wasn’t quite sure why.

She nodded slowly, but didn’t move away from the door. “She know you’re coming then?”

Louis shook his head. “Didn’t want her getting all excited bout it if you weren’t going to let me in the house.”

“You should’ve rung me.”

Louis didn’t answer.

“Liz?” a female voice called, “Who’s at the – Louis!”

Harry watched as Louis’ entire face dissolved into a wide grin as the girl threw herself into his arms, and he only stumbled a little. Harry smiled to himself because at least this part would be okay; clearly his sisters wanted to have him around, even if the woman who was glowering from the doorway didn’t.

“I can’t believe you actually came, you prat, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Language, Lottie,” Louis scolded, but it was a bit lost around the smile on his face.

“Get on in the house then,” Liz said because at this point she didn’t have a choice and they all knew it.

Harry wanted to offer the woman a smile because he could see his mother’s disapproving gaze, but he didn’t think it would matter, so he didn’t. He followed Louis, who still had Lottie wrapped around him, into the house. Looking at them, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing because he understood where Lottie got her octopus impersonation because it must be a family trait. There was also a fair bit of resemblance between them, the way Louis’ eyes would flash with amusement, a bit of a twinkling in his eye when he was up to something mischievous. He could see it in Lottie’s eyes, but she could also see the way Lottie adored Louis and when he heard an echoing of squeals as more little girls came running down the stairs. They engulfed him in a group hug, knocking him to the ground, but Louis was smiling and laughing and trying to hug them all at once.

“Girls, calm down,” Liz called from where she was stood in the kitchen, the same disapproving look on her face.

Harry felt himself frowning, and it was weird for him because he still wasn’t quite sure why everything was tense. The girls froze and slowly disentangled themselves from Louis, whose eyes were a bit dimmer than they had been only moments earlier, and Harry could see the tension in his neck, down through his shoulders, knew the set of his jaw. He moved forward, hand on Louis’ shoulder before he remembered making the choice to move. Louis’ eyes flickered up to Harry, the angry haze startling, but he smiled a bit, the edges of his eyes softening a little.

“Who’s he?” Lottie asked as she moved up to stand at Louis’ other side.

“This is Harry,” Louis answered, eyes not leaving Harry’s face.

“I’ll not have you bring your firm friends round the house, Louis.”

“Girls, go upstairs for a minute, yeah? Let Liz and I have a chat.”

Lottie pouted, but Louis shook his head and she shuffled the other girls upstairs. They all waited in silence until they heard the upstairs doors close. Harry felt as though he should move away from Louis, maybe go back and wait in the car until things were sorted, but when he went to move away, Louis grabbed his hand, twining their fingers together.

“He’s not in a firm, right. I’m here cause Lottie called me, yeah? We’ll be gone in the morning – I know the rules, Liz.”

Liz looked at them, her eyes jumping between their linked hands and Louis’ face, occasionally coming back to Harry’s. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she must have been okay with what she saw because she nodded, the same curt nod she’d given them on the porch.

“One night, Louis. If you come again, I expect you to ring me first.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Go on upstairs, Lou,” Harry whispered.

Louis looked at him, eyes sparkling a bit like they had earlier and Harry catalogued the look for reference because he wanted to make sure Louis looked like that, with those bright eyes, as often as possible. With a squeeze of his hand, Louis nodded and walked upstairs. Of course, that left Harry alone in the kitchen with a woman he’d never met and didn’t seem terribly keen on pleasantries. It was a bit weird because Harry was good with people, usually able just to chat with them about anything, but Liz was having none of it. She was just stood there in the kitchen glowering at him as though he’d trudged mud all throughout the house.

He contained his eye roll because he didn’t want to make things any harder on Louis, but he wasn’t just going to stand round the kitchen like an arse, so he moved over to the counter and busied himself with putting the kettle on. Liz’s eyes followed him as he moved about the kitchen, but didn’t speak or tell him to piss off, so Harry took it as permission. The cupboards were neat, the mugs all with the handles facing out, the bowls stacked on top of each other, the cutlery sorted neatly in the drawer next to the sink. It was so incongruous with the way Louis lived his life, the way he’d just spread his shit out, until it seemed as though he’d always been there, like he _belonged_. Harry smiled as he pulled out the flour and a few mixing bowls.

“I work in a bakery,” Harry said, breaking the silence. “I could make scones, for the tea?”

She blinked at him, lips pursed, but she nodded, gave a dismissive wave of her hand. Most of her focus was on whatever was going on upstairs, and Harry could tell she was itching to walk up there and see for herself. Harry smiled, not caring if she saw it, but he was happy she was letting him keep himself busy because it kept him from actively worrying about Louis. He mixed the flour and sugar together, hands working automatically because he’d been working this recipe for a long time, even before he’d started at the bakery, something his grandmum had taught him and Gem when they were still small enough to need a stepstool to reach the counter.

Twenty minutes later, the kitchen smelled of currant scones and tea, calming his nerves because it was familiar. He was just pulling them out of the oven when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Liz stood up from where she’d sat down at the table to read her book and the frown was once more etched into her face, it become more pronounced when Louis walked into the room, a young girl clinging to his back.

“God, Harry, that smells divine,” Louis said around a smile that made his eyes shine.

Harry could feel the blush creep up his neck, knew his cheeks were red and he looked down at his toes. “Thanks.”

The kettle went off and Harry turned his back so that he could busy himself with making the tea. He could feel Louis’ amused gaze, heard the shuffling of feet as everyone settled in round the table. Harry brought mugs over for everyone, even Liz who didn’t smile, but her scowl was a bit less pronounced as she met his gaze. The scones were cool enough to serve so he piled them onto a plate and brought them with cream and sugar over to the table.

“Did we get a cook?” one of the girls asked as she tugged on Louis’ sleeve.

“No, Daisy. This is Harry, my boyfriend.”

Harry knew he was grinning, probably looked a bit stunned because that’s how he felt – Louis called him his boyfriend, to his sister. He was smiling warmly at Louis, ignoring the snort Liz let out at the announcement, but she wasn’t surprised by it. Harry sat in the open seat next to Louis, working to contain his grin, but he couldn’t. Lottie looked at him with a small smile, her own cheeks flushed in the way Louis’ did when he was embarrassed. He felt a tug on his arm and looked down, one of Louis’ sisters was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Are you going to make us scones everyday?”

Harry laughed, loving the way her lips curved up. “I don’t think so, love. This is a special occasion, yeah? Thought it would be festive.”

He felt Louis take his hand and squeeze as the girls continued to ask rapid-fire questions before turning to each other to analyze the answer in equally fast chatter that Harry didn’t always follow. They were all smiling as they worked their way through the plate of scones and two rounds of tea, Liz notable only for her silence. They moved into the living room, Daisy demanding they put on a film and have a bit of a cuddle on the couch. Harry smiled as the girls arranged him and Louis on the couch to their satisfaction, leaving enough room between them for each of the younger girls to have one side of them. Louis of course grumbled at them, but it was muted because of the smile on his face, the fondness in his voice and Harry couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

Halfway through the film, some animated thing Harry’d not heard of, Louis gently pried Daisy from his side, settling her over Phoebe who was snuggled up against Harry, fist tucked under her chin as she dozed against him. Harry raised is eyes at Louis who smiled and nodded towards Lottie, the two of them disappearing upstairs for a bit. He could hear Liz moving about in the background, her feet shuffling closer to the base of the stairs, as though she would be able to hear their conversation from where she was stood listening. He turned his focus back to the girls cuddled around him, pleased they’d warmed up to him, knowing it was important to Louis.

Gentle hands on his shoulder woke him sometime later. The living room was dark, the telly turned off and the girls no longer piled around him. He could just make out the shape of Louis in the dark, biting his lip around a smile as he watched the way Louis tried to sneak onto the couch without waking Harry, his face scrunched in concentration.

“Hey Lou,” Harry whispered, voice rough with sleep.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, love.”

“It’s okay.” Harry pushed himself flush against the back of the couch and arranged himself so that Louis could come cuddle in next to him.

They were quiet for a while, Harry’s arms around Louis shoulders, fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, Louis hands fisted in Harry’s shirt, head tucked under his chin. Louis seemed calmer than he had earlier, almost peaceful. The usual manic energy that always followed him around felt less frantic, as though everything had been sorted for once and he wasn’t trying to bust out of his skin to go and fix whatever it was that was broken.

“Thanks,” Louis whispered.

“Course. The girls are lovely.”

“They think you hung the stars, you know. Probably won’t let you out of the house now, you bloody menace.”

Harry smiled at the fondness in Louis’ voice.

“Wish I could stay longer, for Lottie though,” Louis’ voice shifted, softened as though he almost didn’t want Harry to catch the words.

He waited for Louis to continue, hands stroking Louis back.

“She’s fighting now, in school. Nearly got suspended this last time. Someone said something bout our mum and she hit the bloke right in the face, broke his nose.”

Harry felt Louis’ eyes on him, he looked down and held Louis’ gaze, watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Wanted to be proud, right? Tell her good on, but like I can’t because Liz is – she’s threatening to have Lottie sent off too, keep her away from the other girls because she’s turning out just like me, gonna become a scrapper just like her piece of shite brother. That’s why she called me, panicked because she doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to not be round her sisters. Thought I’d be able to talk Liz out of it, like I’m some bloody miracle worker, but you’ve met the cow, Harry, she’s awful. Don’t like me much, either. She’d like to keep me out forever, but the courts said I could visit when I liked, but like when I left, they were all just crying and they wouldn’t stop and Lottie screamed at me, told me she hated me, that she never wanted to see my ugly mug round the house again.”

It was the most Harry’d ever heard Louis speak of his family and he didn’t know what to do, what to say, but he didn’t want Louis to stop so he just held Louis and hoped it was enough.

“I was pretty fucked when I left, after – after everything, the trial, the courts, the girls. It’s not like he just came home one day and killed her. He was smart about it, started small, just smacking her about when the girls and I weren’t there, but no bruises, so we never knew. He got worse, but mum, she wouldn’t let us, wouldn’t let me, help. Begged me not to make him angry. He’d just get drunk, every night, like he used to go down the pub and get tanked, sometimes not make it home, but then he’d just start drinking in the living room, yelling at the telly whenever there was a match on. He never hit the girls, and I checked, every night before bath time, just to make sure.”

Harry knew there were tears in his eyes, but he couldn’t help it, he’d always been a crier. Tender hearted, his mum always said. Louis wasn’t looking at him anymore, which was good because he knew his tears wouldn’t help, might even make Louis stop talking. But Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Louis, the nervous way his fingers messed with the fabric of his shirt, the way he bit his lip each time he took a breath, as though weighing his words, debating keeping his mouth shut.

“It was the twin’s birthday and we were all going out for ice cream because we couldn’t afford dinner, he drank all the spare money, but like I’d saved, put away everything I could to make the day nice for the girls. Mum was going to come with us because it was their birthday, but he didn’t want her leaving the house. I’d never seen him that drunk, found out later he’d been sacked from his job, boss tired of him coming in drunk all the time. She told us to go without her, pushed a twenty quid note into my hand, and pushed us out the door.”

Louis stopped; his whole body trembling a bit, Harry didn’t think Louis even noticed. His eyes were squeezed shut, but tears were still leaking through and his knuckles were white where they were gripping Harry’s shirt.

“He killed her while we were out eating ice cream. We took the bus and I remember seeing the ambulance, and the coppers standing in the yard. Lottie, she started crying before we reached the house, like she knew. The twins were just so small, Harry, staring up at me and I didn’t know what to tell them. Neighbors called the police about a ‘disturbance’ in the house, the old bat was tired of hearing the fighting all the time.”

Harry heard the bitterness in Louis voice.

“After that, things turned into a bloody circus. Pulled my school records,” Louis let out a bitter laugh. “Figured I wasn’t a good influence in my sister’s life, too much violence and all, so they had me sent away. I was lucky though, because Zayn’s mum, she took me in, said she wasn’t going to have another stranger raising Jay’s kids. Zayn, he kept me together the first few weeks I was away. Thought I’d show them a thing or two about being violent, about my tendency to seek out dangerous situations. Took on everyone, even tried to take on the blokes in Zayn’s firm, but none of them would take a swing at me. After a couple months though, he got me settled down, just being him, right…he’s so bloody calm all the time, never reacted to me, just looked at me all intense like he knew what I was doing, and understood and I don’t know, but it worked, a bit.”

There were no words. Harry couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so he stayed silent, hoping it would be enough. Louis’ eyes were squeezed shut and Harry brought his finger up to swipe the tears away from his eyes. Louis gave him a weak smile, Harry’s lip twitched up in response. He could only hold Louis tighter because everything sounded so empty, the words falling short.

“I’m glad you came,” Louis whispered. “Think your dimples are what got us in the door.”

Harry smiled a bit. “Think they’re that powerful, huh?”

Louis’ hand cupped Harry’s cheek, thumb stroking along his jaw. “Oh yeah, Liz is a beast.”

Harry laughed as he pressed his lips to Louis’, loving the way Louis’ lips were smiling against his. Louis pulled back before the kiss could become anything other than a sweet press of lips, but he was smiling, a bit of a twinkle back in his eyes.

“I talked with Lottie, told her off for the fighting. We’ll have to leave in the morning. Liz won’t let us stick around much longer, not with Lottie acting up like she is. Still blames me for the way the girls are, maybe she’s right.”

“Lou,” Harry whispered, “No, you can’t. It’s not you, you’re their brother, they adore you, yeah?”

“But – ”

“No, they adore you and you’re a fabulous brother. Lottie called and you came – no questions, no waiting, just woke me up in the middle of the bloody night and showed up to see them knowing Liz might not even let you in the door. That’s not something a rubbish brother would do.”

Louis nodded and leaned up to press his lips to Harry’s. Harry pulled Louis closer, slotting their lips together for a better angle, not looking to make it any deeper, just wanting Louis closer. He pressed his forehead against Louis’ as their lips broke apart. Louis pressed a kiss under Harry’s chin and snuggled in against his chest. Harry smiled and held Louis against his body, listening to the way Louis’ breathing evened out.

“Night, Hazza.”

“Night, Lou.”

 

He felt someone looking at him and he smiled as he opening his eyes, expecting it to be Louis looking at him, but instead it’s Daisy, the same bright eyes, the same little smirk. She smiled up at him, sticking her little finger forward and pressing it into his dimple. He felt Louis shift in his sleep, his hair tickling Harry’s chin.

“Morning,” Harry whispered.

“Hiya, Harry,” Daisy answered, trying to whisper back.

He felt Louis’ lips press against his neck and he smiled, knowing he was awake. Louis shifted until his back was to Harry’s chest and smiled up at his sister. Harry dropped a kiss to Louis’ head, loving the way Louis just fit against him, even on the too narrow couch.

“Louis!” Daisy squealed.

“Morning, Daisy,” Louis replied, voice endlessly fond.

“Is Harry going to make more scones for us?”

Louis laughed and Harry buried his blush in Louis’ hair, loving the sound of Louis’ laugh.

“I don’t know love, but maybe if you ask him, he’ll make us all a nice fry up,” Louis encouraged.

Harry pinched Louis’ side, earning a squeak and a glare. “Rude.”

“Harry, Louis said I should ask you to make us a fry up,” Daisy paused and put her hands behind her back, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. Harry could just imagine little Louis making the same faux innocent movements. “Would you make us a fry up, please?”

Harry smiled and reached out to ruffle her hair, loving the way she giggled and squirmed away.

“Please, Harry – I’ll get Phoebe to help me and we’ll set the table.”

Harry nodded, finding himself as charmed by Louis’ sister as he was by Louis himself. Daisy squealed and dashed up the stairs.

“One day, I’ll learn to say no to you lot,” Harry told Louis who was smirking up at him.

Louis kissed Harry’s nose before rolling from the couch. “Until then, love, put the kettle on will you?”

Harry shook his head, but went into the kitchen to put the tea on and pull out everything he’d need to make the fry up for the girls. He heard Louis’ feet on the stairs and smiled to himself. By the time Louis came back downstairs, the girls in tow, Harry’s got the fry up done. He hears Daisy and Phoebe whispering to themselves excitedly as they took the plates Louis had pulled down from the cupboard for them to the table. Watching Louis with his sisters kept a smile on Harry’s face as he poured the tea.

“You’re the best housewife ever,” Louis whispered against Harry’s ear as he left a kiss on his cheek.

“Shut it you, or you won’t get any.”

“Cheeky.”

Harry swatted Louis’ arse with the towel as he helped the girls finish setting the table. Louis froze when Liz walked into the kitchen, scowl on her face as she took in the scene before her.

“I made enough for you,” Harry offered with a big smile, hoping it would be enough to break the tension, wanting Louis to enjoy the rest of his time with his sisters.

She didn’t say anything as she took a seat at the table, but it was enough for Louis to shoot him an appreciative glance before he went back to showing Phoebe the proper way to put the cutlery on the table. Harry served up breakfast, listening to the excited chatter from the girls as they all fought for Louis attention, which he was very careful to give to each girl. The twins helped Harry do the washing up while Louis talked to the older girls upstairs. Liz spent her time in the living room, pretending to watch some morning show on the telly.

When it was time to go, the twins attached themselves to Louis’ legs like mini koalas, eyes wet with tears. Louis gently pulled them off, promising that he’d be round to visit them again. The older girls gave him lingering hugs, but didn’t cry, which was good because Louis looked on the verge of tears himself. Harry smiled and waved at them as he pulled the door shut behind them. Once they were alone on the porch, Louis shoulder’s slumped and he let out a deep sigh.

“Made Lottie promise to quite fighting,” Louis began, not looking at Harry. “Gave her my mobile number, if she needed to talk, said we’d come back if she needed.”

“Volunteered me did you?”

“Someone’s gotta make the tea in the morning.”

Harry laughed as he pulled Louis into his arms. “Better?”

Louis nodded.

 

“Harry. Wake up, Harold,” Louis’ voice pulled Harry from his sleep. He rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand, still wanting to curl back against the door and nap a bit longer, but Louis is smiling at him, hand reaching out to run through his curls.

“We can order some takeaway, yeah? Watch a film or something?”

Harry smiled because that sounded amazing. He linked their hands as they walked up to the flat, Harry still amazed that he felt almost normal walking into Zayn’s flat. Sometimes he wondered how he got here, holding hands with Louis, walking into where Zayn lives, knowing it wasn’t not going to be a problem with the firm, with Liam. He ran into Louis, who was frozen in the doorway, key still in the lock. Harry tucked his chin up over Louis’ shoulder and nearly swallowed his tongue because Liam was cuddled up on the couch with Zayn. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, but Louis had a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

“Oi, lovebirds,” Louis called, recovering faster than Harry, who was still blinking a bit stupidly.

“Shut up, Lou,” Zayn mumbled from somewhere around Liam’s shoulder. “Don’t wake him.”

“I’m awake,” Liam said, eyes still closed.

“Tell me you weren’t shagging on the couch.”

“We haven’t been shagging you tosser,” Zayn said as he opened one eye to glare at Louis. “We’ve got our kit on, yeah?”

“Knew you were doing something wrong.”

“Fuck off.”

Louis laughed, eyes twinkling as he winked at Harry, who knew he was smiling like an idiot, but they looked so happy wrapped up together on the couch and sure he’d take the piss out of Liam for it tomorrow, and the next day and eventually even get Niall in on it, but for now they just looked so together that Harry wanted them to have the moment. He tugged on Louis’ hand.

“Let’s go to mine?”

“What for?”

Harry grinned and moved his mouth down to Louis’ ear. “So I can get your kit off.”

  **~FIN~**


End file.
